


Born Under A Bad Sign

by Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All OCs Are For Plot Advancement, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Remus Lupin, Beauxbatons, Beauxbatons Student Draco Malfoy, Beauxbatons Teacher Remus Lupin, Because They Live In France, Childhood Trauma, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Harry Potter), Depressed Remus Lupin, Depressed Sirius Black, Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Draco Malfoy Has a Sibling, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Draco Malfoy-centric, Eventual Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Father Figures, Found Family, Good Parent Remus Lupin, Harry and Sirius Enter The Story In Parts II and III, He Has Lots Of Help, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, M/M, Magical Adoption, Muggle Culture, Neurodiversity, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Old Married Couple, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Remus Lupin Lives, Remus Lupin Speaks French, Remus Lupin has Self-Esteem Issues, Remus Lupin-centric, Single Parent Remus Lupin, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius Black is a Good Parent, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Squib Richard Ellis, Squibs, Thestrals, They Were Together Before Azkaban, Thomas Barrow is a Kickass Grandad, Thomas and Richard Own A Potions Shop, We Value Them, Welsh Nicknames, Welsh Remus Lupin, Werewolf Discrimination, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Thomas Barrow, Werewolves, Wolfsbane Potion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We/pseuds/Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We
Summary: Most members of the worldwide magical community have read Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, and most, if not all, would be able to summarize the definition of a werewolf.Draco Lupin could tell you a lot more than that.“Featuring found families, French, and the flaunting of HP canon, Born Under A Bad Sign combines the barest semblance of canon with ruthless LGBT representation in this magical romp!” -Kirkus Reviews“Magic-less magical folk are a facet of Harry Potter that are rather skimmed over in the whole thing, really. I’m glad that a squib other than Filch is getting some time in the spotlight!” -Bathilda Bagshot“Far too homosexual. I’ve already made my concessions to the community with Dumbledore.” -JK Rowling
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Remus Lupin & Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black & Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 319
Kudos: 601





	1. The Life and Loss of Draco Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Child abuse in chapter one, but chapter two is fair game! I'll update any other warnings as we go, and please don't hesitate to point out anything I've missed.
> 
> I've had a couple trolls now (on other stories- not this one), and I'm really not impressed. Rude comments hurt my willingness to return to the story and ruin what confidence I have in my writing in general. I read and respond to every comment I get; don't think I won't see it. If you have a problem, please be polite about it! I'll be happy to explain anything, and I'm always open to CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. :)
> 
> If you choose to leave a rude remark anyway, I hope you know that you are giving me permission to show up to your house in the middle of the night and eat your C4 vertebra.

Draco Malfoy was born on a warm June day to Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, and his life was planned out from his first breath.

He would be raised as a proper British pureblood ought to be: private tutoring through childhood, attend Hogwarts at eleven, graduate with multiple Outstandings on NEWTS at seventeen. He would enter society and his chosen career, select a wife of good breeding and status, and inherit upon his father’s death. (His sister Aurelia was ten months his senior, but anyone unable to pass on the family name is naturally unable to inherit the pater familias’s position in society.)

Sometimes it’s strange just how much life can get in the way of peoples’ plans.

  
  


**

Vincent Crabbe was a few months older than Draco, twice as large, and ten times meaner. He was the king of their “playdates” with the children of other pureblood families. The large boy had a talent for cruelty, spending his time shoving around weaker children and insulting those that he didn’t consider worth the effort. (Draco was safe from any foul treatment thankfully; the Malfoys were above the Crabbes in social standing. He wouldn’t be surprised if Crabbe ended up as some sort of “bodyguard” for him when he finally went to Hogwarts.)

One of Crabbe’s favorite insults was a word that Draco had never heard before, but in the manner of most four year olds, the question continually slipped his mind until dinner one night.

“Mother,” he asked in the formal manner that he had been taught, “What is a _Squib?_ ”

His mother’s face flushed white, and her fork clattered as it fell onto her plate. Aurelia, now five years old, stared at him. Lucius stood quickly, slamming his hands down on the table. 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you will never- _never-_ say that word again.”

Childish curiosity is never satisfied, and Draco at this moment was no exception. “Why?” 

His father’s face darkened further with rage, and he extended a shaking finger towards the door, calling for an elf as he did so. 

Dobby appeared with a crack as his master’s call, bowing immediately to the irate wizard and his family. “What is Master calling Dobby for?”

“Draco is to be escorted to his chambers, where he will be confined until tomorrow at noon. He is not permitted any food, and you shall take no orders from him. Should he say the word Squib again, he will remain there until dinner instead, and you shall shut your ears in the oven door.” His attention turned to his son again for a moment. “Does that answer _why_ , Draco? It is because I said so, and as my son, you are to obey me.”

Draco nodded and left the dining room with as much dignity as he could manage. _A Malfoy holds his head high, even when defeated._

Dobby would explain the meaning of “the S-word” to Draco later that night, and the boy was horrified by the implications of it. The very memory of the word felt bitter in his mouth. To be a person born of magic but no better than the common Muggle- the idea was terrifying!

That was the first time that Draco heard the word Squib, but it would not be the last.

  
  


**

Something went wrong after Draco turned seven. Tension grew in the house as his parents looked at him with thinly veiled concern and confusion. He noted it with a degree of anxiety, but nothing really _happened_ until a few days before Yule. 

Yule was a lavish affair for the Malfoy family. Their annual ball was the predominant topic of conversation in pureblood circles, and invitations were more valuable than gold. The Ball was a chance for people to mingle- rubbing shoulders with CEOs and popular entertainers, government officials and dignitaries. 

Draco and Aurelia didn’t care about the once-in-a-lifetime social opportunity provided by the Ball, or the flawless decorations, or the fact that fashion trends could often trace their origins back to an outfit worn by some celebrity to the Malfoy Yule Ball. They were here for the _presents._

Every guest brought a gift for the hosting family, as was customary. Though some families preferred to bring their offerings to the event, if just to show their ability to afford ridiculously expensive gifts, other gifts would arrive by owl order days, or even weeks, before the event. The two Malfoy siblings had taken it upon themselves to find the hidden gifts, though their 100% fail rate over the past three years (hiding things from children is far easier when you know transfiguration) served as a sore spot for the two. 

This year, Draco and Aurelia were concentrating on reconnaissance. If they could hear some mention of the presents, perhaps they could figure out where their parents had weaseled them away to this time. 

The plan was simple: the next time their mother and father entered his study, the two would listen at the door until they found out something of import.

  
  


“ _Clear,_ ” Draco whispered down the hallway to Aurelia. Their parents had walked into the study some three minutes ago, but the kids had waited until it was certain that the two hadn’t just ducked in to grab something. 

Aurelia ran down the hall to join him, and they inched towards the door of the study. A prickling sensation washed over them, but it hardly registered as they were hit with a wall of sound. 

“-A BLOODY SQUIB!” Draco’s curiosity was piqued; who were they talking about? Was one of his playgroup friends… 

“Lucius, please, we don’t know that yet.” Narcissa sounded close to tears. “There have been proven cases of delayed development- wizards have had their first case of accidental magic as old as nine…”

“His sister was levitating at four, Narcissa! The boy is a SQUIB!”

Cold dread seeped into Draco’s bones, and Aurelia paled as she seemed to connect the dots. There was still hope though- maybe one of his yearmates also had a levitating sister! That had to be a fairly common expression of accidental magic- it had to be!

“At least give him until he’s nine, Lucius! Draco still has a chance!”

Whatever was said next was lost to Draco, who sank to the floor, staring blankly into the distance. No. 

_No._

**_NO._ **

He couldn’t be a Squib. He’d be a disgrace, a pathetic excuse for a Malfoy. He wouldn’t be able to inherit; he wouldn’t be able to attend Hogwarts. He would be a freeloader for the rest of his life, _if_ his parents let him stay at home.

Dreams crumbled before eyes, even as the real world blurred with tears. He was useless. 

A Squib.

Good for nothing. An insult to the magical community. A reverse Mudblood.

Worse than a Mudblood. 

He was-

“Ah, so you heard that.” Draco’s head snapped up as his father’s voice came from right in front of him. He briefly glanced around, but Aurelia was nowhere to be seen. He raised his eyes again to meet his father’s cold gaze.

“F-”

Lucius held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear you speak, Draco. Your mother, as you probably heard as you eavesdropped, has convinced me to give you until your ninth birthday to display accidental magic.” The rest of the sentence hung in the air, a wordless whisper of “ _or else”_. Draco nodded tearfully, and Lucius sneered.

“For Merlin’s sake, boy, you’re still a Malfoy. Wipe the snot off of your face and face me like you’re worthy of the blood that runs through your veins.”

Draco quickly clambered to his feet, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. The room seemed to shrink in on him, making him want to curl up instead of stand tall. He just felt _small._

He swallowed the lump in his throat and raised his chin. “I understand, Father.”

And so began the worst, and last, years of Draco Malfoy’s life.

  
  


**

Accidental magic, as Lucius explained to Draco on the first day after Yule, was a survival instinct. It reacted when it believed its bearer to be in danger, and was thus thought by most Magical Theory experts to respond to feelings of extreme fear, anger, and pain. 

Hypothetically, if exposed to extreme levels of said emotions, Draco’s magic would react and protect him. 

The boy nodded blankly as his father explained his plans for the next few years. He would do what his father suggested. 

He would get magic.

Whatever the cost.

  
  


**

There were knives under his skin, ripping apart his flesh like paper. Flames danced along his skin, and he could swear that he felt it blackening, crisping, flaking away. Maybe the rest of him would follow. Maybe he’d turn into a pile of ash and drift away on the wind. 

Some fleck of him would fly to a field of sunflowers and lie on the face of one of them. Another would float to the beach and watch gulls fly. Perhaps another would stay in the house, stick to one of Aurelia’s sweaters. She hadn’t talked to him since that fateful winter night, but maybe the little flake of him would be able to hear her. Maybe she would decide that she missed him after all. She could take him with her when she left for Hogwarts in two years.

Or perhaps he’d have to find his own way. Some of him would float all the way to Scotland, see the castle that his parents used to tell him about. He would see the Black Lake and the sparkling stars of the Great Hall. He could watch the students learning things that he now knew he could never do.

Or maybe no wind would be able to reach him down here, in this dark room where his father did his best to unlock the magic that wasn’t there. He’d remain here, quiet and cold, hungry and aching. Maybe Lucius would lock the room forever and leave Draco’s ashes there in their little pile, seeking a breeze that would never come.

The Cruciatus ended, and his father spoke, voice full of spite. “Draco, do you know what comes two days from now?”

Draco’s throat was raw from screaming, and his mouth tasted like blood from where he bit his tongue. “Yes, Father. I’m turning nine.”

“Do you know what else happens that day, should you be unsuccessful in this pathetic attempt to prove yourself worthy of your existence?”

“No, Father.” 

“You should savor these next two days, Draco, and pray to whomever will listen. Otherwise, when overmorrow comes, I will kill you.”

Lucius left without another word, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Draco, despite his body’s protests, curled into a ball on the floor and let himself cry.

  
  


**

There was a whisper of noise in the silent room. A single beam of light streaked across the floor as the door to Draco’s room opened, and the boy could hear his mother’s voice from outside. 

“Draco.”

He inched towards the door and looked at his mother for the first time in two years. 

She was even paler and thinner than he remembered. Her eyes were sad, shadowed by dark circles. She extended a slim hand through the crack into the door, and Draco grasped it.

It was warm. He smiled. 

“My dear son, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was no louder than the barely noticeable noises of life in the rooms above. “Nothing I can do can ever make up for how you’ve been treated, but I can at least do this.”

His hoarse whisper, impossibly, was even quieter than hers. “Do what, Mother?”

“Take my ring.” There was a thick silver ring on the third finger of the hand he was holding. Draco stared at it in confusion.

“Why?”

“When this Manor was built, this entire block was dungeon cells. However, one of your ancestors, Veres Malfoy, was horribly paranoid. He went on day and night about “the family’s enemies” and spent endless hours updating the Manor’s security. If you’ve ever found a secret passage, he built it. In his magnum opus, he reasoned that, should enemies still infiltrate the Manor and chose not to kill the inhabitants immediately, they would most likely be thrown in their own dungeons. Following this reasoning, he added an escape tunnel to each cell. If the family were thrown into the dungeons, one of them would have a ring that could reveal and open the tunnel, allowing the family to escape.” 

“So you mean to say that this ring-”

Narcissa nodded and wiggled her fingers in his grasp. “Take it. Lucius doesn’t know about the passages; he was never interested in the Manor’s history. He won’t notice the loss of the ring.”

Draco slipped the ring off of her finger and gave her hand a careful squeeze. “Thank you, Mother.”

As he crossed the cell and disappeared into the secret passage, he could hear her faintly whisper a final apology to him, but the opening closed before he could respond.

Draco Malfoy was dead.


	2. From Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter establishing Remus's life until now.

Remus Lupin knew full well that life was a box of chocolates. Turned into a werewolf at four years old, he’d spent most of his childhood terrified of himself and the outside world. Then, after years of loneliness, he’d found a place for himself at Hogwarts, made friends, learned to accept himself, and had even fallen in love.

After graduation, life continued blissfully. He couldn’t find any good jobs with his “furry little problem”, but whenever his poor paying job failed to provide, Sirius and James would (despite Remus's protests) jump in to help. 

Life was beautiful and simple. The war always seemed so far away. It was a wonderful moment in time.

Then came Halloween, and the moment ended.

James, the intelligent and caring prankster, who opened a spot in his family for Sirius when he ran away, who’d first proposed that the other three Marauders become Animagi- dead.

Lily, the kindest and smartest witch he had ever met, who always made Remus tea the day after a full moon- dead.

Peter, the jumpy yet loyal friend, whose hero worship of James didn’t stop him from becoming his own person- dead.

Sirius, amazing, kind Sirius, who hated his family because of their prejudice, whom Remus loved more than life itself- condemned to a life in Azkaban.

Harry, only a bit more than a year old, the only son of the man whom Remus thought of as a brother- gone. 

Remus’s life was ended overnight, and he was left standing in the ashes of what had been. 

**

It was February when he made his decision. The sky was steel grey, and the wind bit through his coat, worn thin from years of wear. Tiny snowflakes were still dotting his hair as he walked into the Ministry and took the lift to Magical Emigration Select Services. 

An hour later, he’d arranged his move to Southern France. 

Three hours later, he’d packed his flat and sent an important letter. 

An hour after that, Madame Maxime accepted his application for the post of Defense Tutor at Beauxbatons. 

Half an hour after that, he was placing a call to the elderly woman who had placed a real estate advertisement in the _La Balai De La Sorciere._

An hour after that, he was standing outside of the picturesque cottage that was “free until you’ve got your feet under you, love”. 

And then, for the first time in months, Remus Lupin smiled and decided that maybe he could rebuild from ashes, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous Defense Tutor at Beauxbatons resigned a few weeks before Remus made his decision. Was it coincidence or fate?


	3. The Spinning Of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading all of the positive feedback on the first chapters made me actually cry. I love to write, but I often feel like I'm not very good at it. All of my published stories are very dear to me, and I'm glad y'all love them as much as I do!
> 
> There is a character introduced in this chapter that might be recognized by anyone who's seen Downton Abbey. I took Thomas Barrow's post-movie fate into my own hands and made him happy (because he deserves it). A kick-ass old werewolf who owns a potion shop ended up being the result. He's called Mr. Barrow during the entire thing because this man is Extra and definitely refuses to be called anything else.
> 
> Other notes: All French places mentioned are real, but I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a hidden wizarding community in said areas. There's no real description of the government system for the French wizarding community, so I did whatever I wanted. 
> 
> The mention of Remus's English/French confusion is based from experience.

Fate is a fickle friend. Some days, mercy falls from the heavens like rain, touching all, and other times it may touch none. 

Sometimes Fate must withhold something in order to bestow something of greater value. 

  
  


**

Remus groaned as he exited the Beauxbatons potions lab with empty hands. What kind of prank was it to nick all of the Wolfsbane Potion the day before the full moon? He'd like to believe that none of his students would, but there were some from more conservative families that had disliked him since his species was outed to the school five years before. Monsieur Housseini had assured him that he would report the theft to Madame Maxime- Remus should begin looking for a replacement potion immediately. 

His first stop was Gavarnie, a small town that served as the Beauxbatons equivalent of Hogsmeade. However, Apothecary Berlioz shook their head as soon as the bell of Toadstools and Tinctures jingled _._ (Remus had become over the course of their friendship that Berlioz had some kind of divining gift, but they had never mentioned it.)

"I'm sorry, my friend, but my supply of Wolfsbane has been exhausted. I have the ingredients for it, but we haven't the time to brew it. You might try Nice; at least one of the shops there should have what you seek."

Remus thanked them and left the shop, turning into thin air before the bell finished ringing.

  
  


**

If Gavarnie was Beauxbatons’s version of Hogsmeade, then Nice was the closest approximation to London in Southern France. It did lack the government aspect; Le Monarchie Magique was based in the Paris catacombs, but the large magical shopping and residential districts in Nice certainly reminded Remus of Diagon Alley. 

He appeared at one of the common Apparition points in Le Centre Commercial and speed-walked towards the block that contained Nice’s potion sellers. (Remus had mixed opinions on LCC; on one hand, it was organized, but on the other, it lacked some of the chaos that made Diagon Alley so beautiful.)

It would appear that Fate was still playing with him like a cat with its food, because Remus was soon leaving the potions’ block, close to hyperventilating. He had to find Wolfsbane Potion. He’d been careless- he’d run out- what if he hurt someone? This was his fault- how could he have let this happen- more blood on his hands oh Merlin what could he do he’d lose his job and be back where he started he couldn’t do this there wasn’t a single Wolfsbane Potion in all of France-

He pinched the back of his hand with all of his might, wrenching himself out of his panic. That was it.

Perhaps all of France was bereft of Wolfsbane, but there was a shop in Diagon Alley that promised to always have it in stock. 

Remus ran back to the Apparition point, cast the necessary spell to label himself as an Emergency International Apparator, and disappeared once again.

  
  


**

How a city could change in nine years. 

London looked brighter than Remus remembered, warmer too. But perhaps, he thought as he made his way through the streets towards the Leaky Cauldron, perhaps it was he who was different. 

It was nearing noon though, so he increased his pace and kept his eyes straight ahead. The last thing he needed was to see one of their old Muggle haunts and get sidetracked by memories. That was something he couldn’t risk right now, not when lives were at stake. 

The Leaky Cauldron soon appeared in front of him, and he sped up until he was practically running into the dingy pub. He slowed when he arrived at the door, steadying his breathing before slipping into the dark room. 

If there was one thing untouched by time, it was the Leaky Cauldron. It was just as smoky and crowded as ever, even if there was even less tension in the air than nine years before. There was no underlying fear that the news of the Potters was false, that You-Know-Who still lived. People were talking freely, laughing, playing cards, drinking. No one pulled a wand or straightened in anticipation when the door opened. 

It was a nice sight, if a bittersweet one. This freedom was richly bought.

Remus rushed though the bar, tossing a quick greeting to Tom the Bartender. The words felt a tad strange on his tongue, and it flashed through his head that this was the first time he had spoken in English for nearly a decade. Merlin, did he have an accent now?  
  


Opening the wall was thankfully still muscle memory, and the Alley was suddenly spread out in front of him. Just like the Cauldron and London itself, it seemed brighter and happier. No war, no fear.

It was only a short walk to Barrow’s Brews, and Remus paused for a moment, smiling at the familiar sign, a wolf stirring a potion, that hung above the shop. The same small rainbow flag still hung in the window, next to a sign that advertised Barrow’s constant supply of Wolfsbane. His smile broadened into a full on grin when he opened the door, inhaling the familiar scent of herbs and smoke. 

“Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, which they hopefully won’t for a long time yet, that’s Remus Lupin!” Mr. Barrow’s voice was full of fatherly affection as he came around the counter, still moving with his butler’s posture at his age of ninety four. 

“Mr. Barrow!” Remus rushed forward, giving him a tentative hug before the old man scoffed and pulled him into a bear hug. The smell of his cardigan brought back memories, and Remus let himself close his eyes and reminisce.

He remembered the first time he had come into the shop, amazed by how someone could be so proud of who they were. Mr. Barrow had seen the hesitation in his eyes and had offered tea and some stories. There was something about hearing about the man’s earlier life- his self-hatred, the war, his suicide attempt- that made Remus feel more sure of himself. If this man, whose hatred of himself was once the only thing greater than his hatred of the world, could live a happy life, then so could he. A smiling eleven year old had left that shop a few hours later and sworn to return soon.

Those occasional visits during his school years had turned into biweekly post-graduation visits and nights around the fire with the Marauders and Mr. Barrow’s husband, Richard. There had been nights of hot cocoa while the seven of them- James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Mr. Barrow, and Richard- had tossed around baby names as the old couple made knitted hats and blankets, baby-safe sleep and pain relief potions, nutrient enriched baked goods. It was eleven on a June evening when a heavily pregnant Lily murmured out the name Harry, and everyone in attendance had decided that yes, that was the perfect name for the baby. 

Mr. Barrow had been wearing this same cardigan when Remus had sobbed into his shoulder at one o’clock in the morning of November first, 1981. 

The younger werewolf hastily extracted himself from the hug, not wanting to continue down the increasingly rocky memory lane.

“Now, why might you be here on this fine full moon?” Mr. Barrow commented lightly. “Could it be that you’ve forgotten to stock up on Wolfsbane, and you’ve had to break your nine year silence to get some?”

Remus opened his mouth to apologize, but Mr. Barrow stopped him. “That wasn’t a criticism. I understand what you’ve been going through. These things don’t heal, Remus, but they do scar over.”

“Now,” he said, clearing his throat. “Care for some tea?”


	4. Stories Converge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my writing is very stilted, and I apologize for it. I'll be working to improve narrative flow when I go through and edit this at the end of Part I. Thanks for bearing with me!

They set the tea up on the counter since it was still business hours, but neither man had taken more than two sips before the bell chimed. A small voice drifted over to them, quiet and painfully polite.

“Pardon me, are you still open? I was hoping to buy some Wolfsbane.”

The voice’s owner was a small boy- short and skinnier than a skeleton, with tangled white blond hair. Dull eyes looked up at the two of them through overgrown bangs before returning to the floor. 

The first thing that registered to the two werewolves at the counter, though, were the scars that marred his pale face and neck. Puckered pink ones criss-crossed older white ones in places, telling a story that every werewolf could relate to. 

Remus walked forward slowly and crouched to the floor, carefully matching the boy’s quiet tone. “Hello, there. I’m Remus Lupin. Are you a werewolf too?”

The boy twitched at the word but nodded minutely. 

“Is this your first full moon?” Looking at the lad, he already knew what the answer would be. 

The boy’s voice was no more than a whisper when he answered, shaking his head. “‘S the first time I’ve had money to buy Wolfsbane.”

_Unregistered and homeless. Hurt and alone._

“What’s your name?” He probably wouldn’t get an answer, but it was worth a-

“Draco.” 

Surprised, Remus smiled gently. “Well, Draco, this is Thomas Barrow. He’s the oldest and nicest werewolf I know, and he owns this shop. If you really need them, you can always get potions here, no matter how little you can pay.”

Draco peered up at Mr. Barrow, trying to discern any possible threats. Apparently finding none, he relaxed slightly. “That’s a nice thing for you to do, sir. I have four Sickles.” 

"And I will not be taking them!" Mr. Barrow chuckled. "If I made every pup who needed Wolfsbane pay, I wouldn’t be who I say I am, would I? Now, would you like some tea? Nothing wrong with saying no."

The boy gave another tiny nod, and Mr. Barrow smiled before flipping the door sign to 'closed' and leading them both into the back room, carrying the tea tray.

Upon entering the room, the potion seller lit the fire with a wave of his hand. Draco shied away from it before visibly steeling his nerves and perching on one of the armchairs. Remus settled into his own, enjoying the familiar feeling of the soft chair where he'd spent many nights of his young adult years. Mr. Barrow bustled into the kitchen for a moment and returned with another teacup.

Draco looked at it anxiously, and the professor immediately did what he could to calm the boy's fears. 

"Would you like me to try it?” At his nod, Remus picked the teacup up and took a sip from it before handing it to him. "I can promise that it's not poisoned."

The boy's lips quirked, and he delicately took the tea from Remus's hand before beginning to down the hot liquid at a frightening pace. 

The adults exchanged a worried glance but didn't interrupt. Mr. Barrow wordlessly summoned a platter of scones and sandwiches to the table, making sure that the approach of the tray was slow enough not to startle the boy. Draco didn't seem to notice its arrival until it landed on the table, and Mr. Barrow waved his hand at the boy's questioning glance. 

"No limits, no strings attached. Take what you want." 

  
  


**

Half an hour later, when Draco was smiling slightly and all the food was gone, Remus realized that it was time to address the problem at hand.

“Draco, do you have anywhere to stay? A family?” The question was innocuous enough, but the boy curled in on himself, shaking his head furiously. He was mumbling something under his breath, so quiet that the other werewolves, even with their sharpened hearing, couldn’t understand it. His breathing was speeding up, and shudders wracked his skinny frame.

Mr. Barrow slowly moved from his chair and came to a crouch in front of the suddenly panicking boy. 

“Draco, I want you to listen to my voice, okay? I need you to breathe with me.” His voice was soft and kind as he spoke slowly to the trembling body in the chair. “Can you do that? Do your best to focus on how the chair feels beneath you. Soft, isn’t it? How about we take a nice breath in? Slowly now, don’t gulp it down. The air isn’t going anywhere.” Draco took a slow, shuddering breath. “Nice job. How about we do that again? Just breathe in… out… in… out… We can even count it- in, 2, 3, out, 2, 3, in, 2, 3, out, 2, 3…” The old man continued to talk as the tremors began to cease, and finally a pair of glassy grey eyes refocused on the room.

His words, though whispy and ragged, were clear when he next opened his mouth.

“If I go back home, my father will kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: has a panic disorder, suffers from panic attacks  
> Also me: how do I write a panic attack lmao


	5. A Plan

Remus felt like tearing his hair out as he paced around the bathroom to where he had excused himself after Draco’s admission. This boy- this pup!- was hardly ten years old and had already been faced with death. By a parent, no less!

Wizarding orphanages had been closed to werewolves from the moment that they’d been classified as beasts, so that wasn’t an option. A Muggle orphanage was out of the question. He couldn’t simply be placed with a British wizarding family; his father, whom Remus had gleaned had some kind of political power, might find him.

Draco wasn’t safe to stay in Britain. 

Remus stopped pacing and left the bathroom.

  
  


**

Mr. Barrow and Draco looked up in unison when Remus reentered the room and returned to his seat, leaning his elbows onto his knees. 

“Draco, I know that you have no reason to trust me; I could be anyone, for all you know. But I have an offer for you, and I hope you will at least consider it.” Draco looked at him in confusion, tilting his head slightly. 

“I live in Southern France and work as a teacher at Beauxbatons. I could arrange to return every night and check in periodically during the day. I have a few trusted friends that could be around the house when I’m not there, so you wouldn’t have to be unattended.” Remus could see Mr. Barrow nodding approvingly out of the corner of his eye. “Whoever your father is, we could work with Madame Maxime, the head of Beauxbatons, to make sure that he couldn’t find you. You’d be safe.”

The boy seemed to honestly consider it, but his brow fell as if he were remembering something. “Are you sure you’d want to deal with…”

“Draco, we’re all werewolves here. We are the least likely people in the world to be inconvenienced by your lycanthropy,” Remus reminded him, chuckling.

Draco shook his head, eyes focusing on the fire as he replied. “Are you sure you’d want to deal with a Squib? I’m not exactly-”

Mr. Barrow’s bark of laughter made Draco jerk harshly. “Draco, have you seen me do magic today?”

A confused nod.

“Wandless magic too- a pretty difficult thing to learn.”

Another nod.

“Would you believe I was born a Muggle? To go further, would you believe that I cast my first spell at thirty seven?”

Draco’s face was now a mask of bewilderment, and Remus smiled as Mr. Barrow launched into the familiar story.

“I was born in 1896 to a clock maker- a Muggle one, to be precise. At eighteen, I managed to secure a post in Downton Abbey as a footman to the Muggle Earl of Grantham and his family. I served there for almost twenty years, excepting the Great War, when I was a part of the medical corps. Made butler at thirty, met Richard at thirty one. Six years later, I was returning from town with some wine for the house when I was attacked by a wolf. I didn’t know it then, but the beast that made the rest of my arm match my hand was no ordinary animal. 

“The first transformation was awful, as you could probably have guessed, but the worst part of it all was the strange things that began to happen around me. Glasses would explode when I grew angry; an entire silver tray once threw itself at the wall when a maid dropped Mrs. Crawley’s breakfast on the floor. After a few weeks of torment, I ran to Richard, terrified that I was going mad. 

“It was then that he told me about wizards and Muggles, werewolves and Squibs. He explained how he was a member of a magical family born without a drop in his own veins. I wasn’t going mad; I was incredibly lucky. The lupine transformation tends to kill Muggles, but a fortunate few develop magic instead. The exploding glasses and levitating silver? I was displaying accidental magic. I was a wizard.

“He took me to Ollivanders that day, and we purchased some basic spellbooks at Flourish and Blotts. I cast my first Wingardium Leviosa at thirty seven. I resigned from Downton at forty and opened Barrow’s Brews a year later. Since then, life has been, for lack of a better word, magical.”

The boy’s eyes were glassy with tears when Mr. Barrow finished speaking, and his voice cracked when he asked a halting question. “Do you mean… that I’m… like you? I have magic?”

“Well, anyone without magic is in the same boat, so if you’re not dead…” Mr. Barrow’s eyes were joyful as he winked at Draco.

The tears spilled over, but the cheeks that they ran down were dimpled in a smile. Draco was slightly choked up when he turned to Remus and spoke in perfect French. “Mais oui, je viendrai avec toi.” 

**

Draco and Remus took the wolf-proof guest rooms in the Barrows’ flat that night, and by the next afternoon, the man was Apparating home again, this time with someone in Side Along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always HC'd that since the Malfoy family is originally French, the kids begin to learn French when they're very young.
> 
> For anyone who hasn't seen Downton, Mr. Barrow's comment about having the rest of his arm match his hand is referring to how he was shot in WWI. He wears a glove for the rest of the series and doesn't have full use of it.


	6. An Imperfect Heaven Is Still Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify timelines, they met in May.

The next year was a challenge, but a rewarding one. 

Things around the house would explode when Draco had night terrors, but as time passed, he stopped hiding from Remus when the morning came. The availability of the outdoors stole some of the pallor from his skin, and the reliable meals brought him to the point where he no longer looked starved. 

By December, he was no longer afraid to comment on something he didn’t like. He was quick to anger, with a sharp tongue and an adept grasp on sarcasm. 

The two of them would work in their small garden together on weekend afternoons and spend evenings in the study while Remus did paperwork and Draco practiced piano. They spent summer vacation hiking in the woods and playing in the small lake that Remus had found a few months before.

Berlioz ended up putting a perpetual dibs on watching Draco during the day; the apothecary had taken to him immediately and had sparked a love of Potions within the boy. They began to work together, and Remus sometimes had to bribe Draco with an extra serving of dessert to get his nose out of an Herbology book for long enough to eat dinner. Common Potions herbs were soon added to their garden. 

Draco learned to control his emotions to avoid magical outbursts, though the house had still exploded with flowers when Remus told him that he would be attending Beauxbatons at eleven, right on schedule. The older werewolf taught him how to avoid the ever present possibility of sensory overstimulation from his newly enhanced sight and smell.

Draco told Remus when his birthday was about six months late, so they had a small half-birthday celebration instead. Berlioz and the Barrows attended, and their little house was full of laughter and stories far into the night. (Though the new cauldron and floating solar system delighted him, Draco didn’t get off of the broom Remus gave him for three days straight.)

There were bad days too, for both of them. Sometimes Remus would spend the whole day in bed, unable to muster the energy to get up. Shadows would become Death Eaters lying in wait, and the whispering of wind became the hushed voices of his friends, reminding him of his cowardice. Other days Draco would lose his ability to speak or spend the day lying on his back in one of the meadows near their house, just to remind himself that he was no longer confined to the dungeon cell. Sometimes Remus would move a bit too quickly, and Draco would shrink away.

Draco couldn’t sleep without the light on, and some nights were spent with Remus pretending to be asleep while he stood in the doorway like the man would disappear if he looked away. The nightmares still came frequently, and flashbacks or panic attacks during daylight hours were not an uncommon experience. 

But he was improving.

They braved full moons together, and as Draco’s skills in Potions improved, they began to brew their own Wolfsbane. The seclusion of their home meant that they didn’t have to keep themselves inside; they could lope through the meadows and forests around the cottage, exploring the wilds. 

Remus would tell Draco stories about the Marauders and Lily, sometimes with the stray tear trickling down his face. Draco would reciprocate by telling some of the stories that he had spun during his two years in the darkness, heartbreakingly childish for the context they were created in.

It was a broken heaven sometimes, but it was paradise nonetheless.

  
  


**

The next change to their lives came a few weeks before Draco’s eleventh birthday, when Remus left his customary paperwork to approach the chair where Draco was curled up with _Bisset’s Guide to Basic Medical Potions_ open in his lap. He looked up, shaking shoulder length hair out of his eyes.

“Is something wrong, Moony?” 

Remus shook his head awkwardly, unconsciously fidgeting with the edge of his cardigan as he took a seat in their other armchair. 

“Draco…” He paused momentarily before jumping back into the brief speech he’d planned out. “This year has been one of the best of my life. You’re a smart, friendly, talented kid, and I think it’s time for us to make a change.” One more deep breath. “I’d like to adopt you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Legilimens: *reads my mind*  
> My mind: Wow I love every single one of my readers, and their comments make me so happy! I hope that my next chapter makes them happy because I care about them even though we've probably never met! Can't wait to publish the next bit of this story 'cause I know it'll make someone smile during this quarantine! Dang I sure do love my readers


	7. I Wrote This At Two In The Morning And Cannot Come Up With A Chapter Title For The Life Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Similar to Muggle France, Magical France used to have a king. They had a peaceful transition to a Constitutional government not soon after the French Revolution, but kept calling the government system Le Monarchie for the AestheticTM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wand woods have meaning, and honestly, I don't jibe with the meaning of Remus's canon wand wood. Cypress goes to wizards who are brave, bold, and self-sacrificing, yes, but their other main meaning is that their bearer will die a noble death. 
> 
> Note the tag Remus Lupin Lives. 
> 
> Instead, I chose cedar for our lovely man. Cedar is associated with loyalty, perceptiveness, protectiveness, and strength of character. Woe betide he who harms a cedar-bearer's loved ones.

Remus breathed a sigh of relief as the entrance to the catacombs came into view. He was irritated at himself for not thinking of Draco’s trouble with people, loud noises, bright lights, sudden movements… everything that cities involved, really. Draco had a death grip on his hand, and though it was numb from the lack of circulation, any discomfort was overshadowed by his concern for the boy that he already regarded as his son. 

Le Monarchie Magique was hidden in plain sight, accessible through a “boarded up” entrance into the crypts beneath the city. (Were a Muggle to attempt entry anyway, they would only find a cave-in.) Remus looked around furtively before ducking through the false door and into the refreshingly cool and quiet tunnel. Draco looked around, regarding the floating balls of light that illuminated the walkway with interest. 

“You can touch one, if you like,” Remus said, poking one to prove that it wouldn’t hurt. “They tickle a little.”

They began to walk, Draco trailing a finger through each light as they descended into the earth. 

“Hey Moony?” The boy looked up at him, the look on his face telling Remus that he had a question.

“Yes, cub?”

“Where are the bones? I saw a sign earlier that said that there were skulls in the walls down here, but I don’t see any.” 

Remus grinned and ruffled Draco’s hair. “Good observation! This tunnel and the section of the catacombs that we’re heading to aren’t actually part of the underground graveyard at all. The French king at the time, Louis XVI, agreed to reserve this part of the catacombs for the headquarters of Le Monarchie Magique in exchange for subtle support charms cast on other sections. There are actually a lot of Muggle theories about this area- I think one of the most popular is that it was supposed to be a tomb for Louis that was never used.”

Draco looked pensive and poked another light. “It would look cooler if they’d put bones in the walls anyway.”

Remus laughed, the sound echoing down the length of the passage. “You’re not wrong.”

They slipped into a comfortable silence then, walking down the gradually cooling tunnel. Draco figured out that he could make the little balls of light spin if he hit them a certain way, and Remus smiled as the boy triumphantly showed him the discovery. 

A man dressed in an archaic guard’s uniform suddenly appeared on the path in front of them and extended his hand. Remus passed him his wand, and the man waved it in a single swipe through the air before returning it and vanishing. A large doorway appeared in front of them, intricately engraved with Ancient Runes. 

“What was that?” Draco wanted to know.

“Le Monarchie Magique has a unique security system. That was a revenant, the personification of someone’s all-consuming dedication to something. The rest of their body and spirit has already passed on, but their love of whatever they’re attached to keeps them on Earth. That revenant was left behind by someone who dedicated his entire life to Le Monarchie. 

“Revenants are remarkably powerful, but they only dedicate the power to whatever it is that ties them to this plane. The one we just saw can judge peoples’ true intentions from their wands and can keep the door hidden from those who wish Le Monarchie harm. If they’re especially malicious, he may twist the tunnel into an inescapable maze, ensuring that whoever it is can never hurt anyone ever again.”

Draco turned around and stared at the spot where the revenant had stood. “He can do all that, but he just hangs out here all day, serving as security guard?”

“Revenants are just personifications of obsession. Unlike their closest relatives, ghosts, they don’t have any desires outside of their anchor.” Remus thought for a moment. “I like to think that this makes them happy, though.”

Nothing more was said as he stepped forward, opening the door to the atrium of Le Monarchie Magique.

  
  


**

Remus had seen the atrium of LMM a few times before, but like the Hogwarts Great Hall, it never failed to take his breath away. Draco was gaping openly at his side, even more in awe of the beautiful room surrounding them.

And how beautiful it was. 

The floor was tiled with stones that seemed to suck in light with their deep black color, and the shining stars embedded in it gave one the feeling that he was standing on the void of space. Magically animated constellations gamboled across the surface; a pair of bears played near the reception desk, and a snake slithered over to circle the feet of the two werewolves as they stepped into the room. 

The high roof of the Atrium was entirely glass, but instead of showing the mass of rock above them, it showed a powder blue sky with a few puffy clouds and a brilliant sun. 

Between the day and night sky were marble columns wrapped in golden vines in constant motion. Draco’s eyes tracked one such vine as it unraveled itself from its column and extended towards the information desk, suddenly growing a paper leaf that the witch plucked and read. 

Noticing them approaching, she quickly scribbled a reply onto the back of the leaf and placed it back on the vine. As it retreated, she turned to them with a smile. “Good afternoon, sirs, how can I help you today?” 

“Hello, I’m looking for the Magical Adoption Center?”

Her smile broadened, and her voice was bright when she pointed to a space between two of the columns to their right. “Congratulations to both of you, and I hope it goes well! The vines will show you the way.”

  
  


**

The gold vine that they had been following for the past two minutes finally stopped, coming to curve around the top of an ovular door and bursting into a myriad of pearly flowers. Remus knocked carefully, and a friendly voice called from the inside.

“Do come in!” The door swung open smoothly, and the two stepped inside.

Excepting the color scheme, the room inside reminded Remus more of his occasional visits to the Hufflepuff common room than anything else. It was plushly carpeted in a pleasant shade of royal blue, and the walls were a complementary periwinkle. Plants grew from every available surface, and a friendly fire crackled in an alcove to their left. The wide windows showed the same sunny sky as those in the atrium, though a few were open to let in an inexplicable breeze. 

A mahogany desk laden with papers and plants was set near the back of the room, and an excited looking man somewhere in his fifties excitedly stood up when they entered. 

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you both! My name is Albert, and I’ll be helping you today. It’s lovely to have someone in here; adoptions have been few and far between as of recent, so I’ll do my best to make this go as quickly and smoothly as possible!” He waved his wand and moved two of the soft-looking chairs that dotted the room to rest in front of the desk. “Please, sit. Would you like anything? I have tea, coffee, a lovely pitcher of homemade lemonade…”

Remus took a seat in one of the chairs and smiled to put the almost-manic man at ease. “A tea would be lovely. Would you like anything, Draco?”

“A glass of lemonade, please.” 

Their drinks floated over to them, and they both took them out of the air. Albert settled back behind the desk with a new cup of coffee and looked at them over a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. He then bent down, rummaging around through the piles of papers on his desk before apparently remembering that he was a wizard. “Accio blank adoption form!”

A long sheet of parchment came flying across the room from under one of the plant pots and smacked him in the face. Unphased, he set in down on the desk and positioned a Quick Quotes Quill on the face of it.

His demeanor shifted for a moment as he regarded them both with serious eyes. “I'm legally obligated to inform you that the ink that this pen writes with is laced with Veritaserum and therefore will stop writing the moment that it detects falsified information. Anyway," he continued with a lighter tone, "I’ll begin with the questions for you, Monsieur…?”

“Lupin. Remus John Lupin.”

The quill jumped into action, the noise of it scratching down the information jarringly loud. Frowning, Albert cast a quick Silencio on it. 

“Age and birthdate?”

“March tenth, 1960. I’m currently thirty one.”

“Place of residence?”

“Forest Cottage in the Tully Woods near Gavarnie, France.” 

“I’m guessing you teach at Beauxbatons, then?”

“I’m the Defense tutor there, yes.”

Albert practically jumped out of his seat. “So _you’re_ the Defense instructor my daughter’s always going on about! Juliette loves your class- never stops telling me about your latest creatures!”

“Would that be Juliette Augustin? She’s one of my best students.” Remus smiled at Albert’s reaction; it was always lovely to hear about a student who enjoyed his class.

“The very same! She’s my pride and joy.” Albert shook himself and refocused on the form in front of him. “Back on topic, sorry. How long have you been a French citizen?”

“Almost a decade now.”

“Where were you born, and why did you come to France?”

“I was born in Wales and received my education at Hogwarts. My best friends were murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and I came to France to attempt to rebuild my life.”

The man murmured his sympathies before moving on. "Wand type and place of purchase?"

"Ollivanders in Diagon Alley- ten and a quarter inches, cedar with a unicorn hair core."

“Has Draco been living with you, and if so, for how long?”

“He’s been living with me since May of last year. I’m his temporary legal guardian, but I thought that it was time that we made it permanent.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Blood status, and do you have any creature ancestry? One eight or more has to be recorded, but neither of these answers will impact the outcome of the adoption process.”

“I'm a halfblood with no creature blood, but I was turned into a werewolf at four years old.” 

Albert nodded casually. “You reliably use Wolfsbane?”

“Every moon since my first.”

“Then there’s no problem! If your lupine form hasn’t had any issue with the presence of a human, then I see no reason why it should complicate anything now.”

The pair exchanged a brief glance, and surprisingly, it was Draco who spoke up first. “There hasn’t been any issue with the presence of a human on full moons because I’m a werewolf too.”

“And there have been no problems?”

Draco shook his head.

“Then it only makes things better for the both of you! We now have assurance that neither of you will run the risk of being attacked and that you’ll have an adult who keeps a reliable supply of Wolfsbane. Anyway,” he continued, completely unfazed by the situation, “That’s all of the information that I need for the prospective parent, so let’s move on to Mr. Draco here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a chapter if not a horrible combination of stilted dialogue, extensive descriptions, and worldbuilding infodumps?


	8. The Obstacle Course Of Our Pasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We vibe with supportive parents :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing fanfiction for around four years now. There have been multiple platforms, thousands of words, and plenty of stories that I probably still have saved on Google Drive. Out of every fic I’ve ever posted though, I don’t think I’ve ever had kinder readers. You all are polite, kind, complimentary, and supportive of me and my story. I want you to know that I read all of your comments before storing them in the special place that you hold in my heart. Fifteen minutes before my most recent exam, I opened AO3 and read the comments that had been put on my apology note. Your good wishes gave me confidence, and I faced the test with a strength that I don’t think I would have had otherwise. Thank you all. 
> 
> That being said, enjoy the chapter.

Monsieur Albert’s gaze was kind, but it scraped across Draco’s skin like an invisible sheet of sandpaper. He curled in on himself slightly, looking briefly to Remus. Seemingly reading his mind in that uncanny way of his, the man took Draco’s hand and squeezed it before speaking to their interviewer. 

“Draco and I haven’t discussed most of his past, so he’s actually never told me some of the things that he’s about to tell you. Please forgive me if either of us needs to take a moment.” 

The chipper adoption official smiled kindly and waved his hand. “I’ll do my very best to give the both of you as much time and space as you need. Adoption is a stressful thing, especially for single parents or if one or both parties has an unpleasant past. I was practically twitching from anxiety when I sat on the other side of this desk, and I had my wife next to me!”

Squeezing Remus’s hand in a slow rhythm, Draco focused on the melting ice in his glass of lemonade and carefully described his day to himself, going into as much detail as he could. Remus’s voice was a quiet rumble in the background, explaining his behavior. Monsieur Albert replied in an equally quiet tone. 

Crisis averted, Draco opened his eyes and refocused on the man across the desk in front of him. “I’m ready, sir.”

“You don’t have to be,” Monsieur Albert immediately replied, “You can have as much time as you need; we have plenty of it.”

“Thank you for your consideration, but I’m stable and ready.” 

Monsieur Albert nodded and scanned the document, finding where he had left off. “Okay, but remember that you can ask for a break at any time. Your questions are almost the same as Monsieur Lupin’s, with a few exceptions. Basics first, though. Full name, age, and birthdate?”

“My birthday is June fifth, 1980, so I’m eleven in a few months.”

“...and your name?”

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed, and he internally screamed at himself for not revealing his identity to Remus before they came in. That would have given the man a chance to walk away, rather than putting him in this position. What if he hated Draco for disguising the truth? Would he be as caring once he found out that Draco’s father was a Death Eater? That he’d been raised to be a blood purist?

His hands were shaking in his lap, and he laced his fingers together to stop it.  _ A Malfoy holds his head high, even when defeated.  _ He wasn’t a Malfoy anymore, but the principle still applied, he supposed. He took a bracing breath and opened his eyes again, raising his head and replying as steadily as he could.

“I was born Draco Lucius Malfoy,” There was a sharp intake of his breath on his right. “Though I was burned off of my family tree on my ninth birthday. Most of the world thinks me dead.” He didn’t- couldn’t- look at Remus. “My mother is a member of the Black family, so I suppose that my full legal name is Draco Lucius Black now. I never gave it much thought.” (That was a lie. He couldn’t remember all the nights that he’d lain in bed, wondering how life might have been different if he had been worthy of his blood family.)

A rough hand was placed over his own tangled ones, and Draco jumped. Remus smiled when he finally looked at him. “I think I understand a lot more about you now.”

“You forgive me?” 

“Draco,” Remus breathed, running a fatherly hand through his hair. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were scared that I wouldn’t want you once I knew, weren’t you?” 

A silent nod caused the man to press a warm kiss to the boy’s forehead. 

“There’s only one thing that could stop me from adopting you, and that’s if you didn’t want me to.”

At those words, Draco forgot his fear of touch and launched himself out of his chair, wrapping himself around the man- his  _ real _ father- in a hug. Remus hesitated for a brief moment before cocooning the small boy in his arms. 

Monsieur Albert made a quiet cooing noise at the gentle scene but otherwise remained quiet. When Draco finally released his dad (even if the adoption process didn’t come through, Remus was his father, no matter the technicalities), the official carried on as if nothing had happened. 

“How long have you been a French citizen?”

The whole mess of legal mumbo jumbo didn’t make any sense to him, so Draco looked to Remus for the answer. Still reading his mind in that uncanny way of his, Remus stepped in. 

“Draco isn’t actually a French citizen; he immigrated under the French Wizarding Child Protection Act of 1923. He was homeless and unable to get help thanks to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures’s classification of werewolves as dangerous beasts. I have the papers here that detail the circumstances of his immigration and the forms that verify him as my official ward.” The man rifled through his leather shoulder bag for a split second before retrieving a folder and placing it on the desk. 

Monsieur Albert adjusted his glasses again and opened the folder, scanning over the documents. “That decree is reserved for cases of life threatening danger; was this the case?”

Draco’s voice snagged slightly when he gave a quiet affirmation. 

“Are there any circumstances, your biological family, for example, that may complicate the adoption process?” 

“I was burnt off of my family tree on my ninth birthday,” Draco murmured. “So I’ve got no official relation to the Malfoys anymore. So no… no issues with Lucius finding me here.” 

Monsieur Albert looked at him with an even greater degree of concern. “May I ask what would happen if he did? Find you, that is.”

_ Focus on the ice.  _ “He’d kill me. Or at least he would have. Back when I was at the Manor or on the streets, he would have…” But not now. Draco was  _ safe  _ now. Draco had a father. He had a home. “But he can’t now.”

The man across the desk nodded carefully before bending down and rummaging through one of the drawers. Emerging victorious yet again, he passed a packet of papers to Remus. “That’s a magically-binding restraining order as well as a list of options for how you can proceed. Last page is a reference sheet for mind-Healers and a couple of magic-aware Muggle therapists.”

Draco’s surprise must have shown on his face because Monsieur Albert shrugged sadly. “I’ve had a lot of cases like yours over the years, unfortunately. Compiled this packet about a year after I started working here- it’s got the best resources I could find.” He cleared his throat again. “How you’d like to proceed with that is up to you and will involve other departments, but I can promise that I’ll do all I can on my side to get you through this as painlessly as possible. Speaking of which-” He peeked down at the adoption form. “We’re a couple of questions from done! Are you good to continue now, or would you like a break?”

Draco smiled weakly and shook his head. “I can go ahead now.”

“You already stated that you’re a werewolf like Monsieur Lupin, but do you have any other creature blood to be noted? One eighth or above is of note, though it won’t have an effect on the process- just has to be recorded.”

“My maternal grandmother was a Veela.”

“Right.” The quill checked a box on a corner of the page. “Over the course of your year staying with Monsieur Lupin, have you at any point felt threatened or unsafe?”

Draco’s answer was definitive. “Never.”

As soon as the quill swept itself off of the parchment with a flourish, the form rolled itself up and vanished in a collection of golden sparks. Monsieur Albert clapped his hands and smiled from ear to ear. “That concludes the interview portion of the adoption! I’ll drop by your house no later than next week just to make sure that your living conditions are up to snuff and ask any follow-up questions, though that’s just a precaution. The real part’s been finished! Congratulations, you two!” 

Remus stood and shook the man’s hand over the desk, and Draco quickly followed suit. Any tension that had previously hung around the room was gone, and it seemed like the sunbeams coming in through the windows were warming him to the bone. He was still reeling. “Wait… was that it? Is it really done?” He probably sounded desperate and dazed, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care. It was done.

“Apart from a quick house visit, yeah it is,” Remus said with no small degree of tenderness in his voice. “Would you like to get some ice cream before we head back home? We could drop by that one potion bookstore Berlioz is always talking about on the way.”

“Yes please!” Draco grabbed his  _ official!  _ father’s hand and shot towards the door, tossing a cheerful farewell over his shoulder as they left the Adoption Office. Monsieur Albert remained sitting at his desk and waved a goodbye. 

Once the happy pair was gone, he smiled again to himself.  _ That, _ he decided,  _ was the beginning of a beautiful story. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Draco’s method for avoiding sensory overload/panic attacks is the method I use as well! It’s what I do when I feel something (whether it be panic, meltdown, or sensory overload) coming. It’s not one hundred percent effective, but I’d definitely say that it helps. It’s also a way to make yourself fall asleep faster!
> 
> I should also note that it’s been a long time since I’ve lived in France, so please excuse any inaccuracies!


	9. The Last Hurdle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's in a great mood, Remus... not so much.
> 
> A visit from our favorite Monarchie Magique official may change that.
> 
> Featuring: Remus having anxiety, family fluff, and Monsieur Albert being an angel sent from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw something online, and it gave me the idea for a little game:
> 
> I don’t post much about myself on here, so I’m inviting you guys to guess things about me! (I’ll reciprocate with whatever I've gleaned about y'all, apart from the fact that every one of you is an amazingly kind and thoughtful person.) It can be anything from my hair color to my MBTI personality to whether you think we’d be friends if we met offline; I just want to see what people can guess! :)

The next four days were a heady combination of exhilaration and anxiety, excited tension floating in the air like an electric fog. It clawed at Remus’s insides with nail-biting anticipation every time he took a breath, murmuring worries that grew more and more nonsensical. They had cleared the highest hurdle, yes, but what if they tripped right before the finish line? He couldn’t think of something that would make the house unsuitable for a kid, but what if that was the problem? What if he was just a negligent parent with something awful right under his nose? What if there was some curse on the house that he didn’t know about? What if the connections between Draco and his biological family hadn’t been entirely severed? What if-

His racing thoughts were thankfully derailed when the door to the study was flung open and Draco burst in, hair askew and tangled around a few pieces of grass. His feet were bare, his clothes messy and wet, and his smile brighter than the sun.

“Père! Monsieur Albert- the Monarchie official- he’s here, walking up the road from Gavarnie!” 

It was time- the final leap before clear ground to the finish line. Remus shot up from his desk, and lesson plans fluttered to the ground as he rushed to follow his son to the front window. He could feel his hands shaking with nerves as he pulled out his wand (slowly- Draco was still wand-shy), casting a few cleaning spells on the living room as he went. 

Draco pointed excitedly to the vague shape of a man walking up the path to the cottage. “That’s him! I was wading in the stream down by that field that grows all that clover, and I saw him walking up, so I ran back here to tell you!” 

Remus ruffled the boy’s hair before carefully extracting the grass from it. “Thanks for the warning, Pup. Mind running upstairs to change into some clean clothes while I put on some tea? I’ll heat up a bit of that pie that Berlioz gave us, too, if you hurry.” 

He’d never seen Draco run that fast.

  
**

Monsieur Albert’s smile was cheerful when Remus opened the door five minutes later, Draco practically vibrating with excitement next to him. The Monarchie official stepped into the house and grinned widely. “What a lovely home! I’ve hardly seen any of it, yet I’m already sure that this visit will go swimmingly!”

That was reassuring; Remus quelled a sigh of relief as he welcomed the man further inside. “Draco saw you coming a little ways down the road, so we’ve got tea and pie ready, if you’d like any?” 

“Oh yes, certainly! I can always go for a cup of tea,” Albert chirped. “We can start with the couple of questions that I’ve got, and then it’ll be a quick run of diagnostic spells and a brief look around before we’re finished!” 

_Bless this man._ Remus could feel his nerves melting away as Albert took a seat at one of the chairs around their small table, talking to Draco about the different spells that he’d be using to make sure that everything was “up to snuff”. He placed the tea service down on the table before joining the other two. 

Albert took a deep inhale of the steam rising off of his tea and sighed happily. “I love chamomile! How did you know?”

“It’s Père’s favorite,” Draco replied, taking his own cup. “I started to grow it for potion practice, but he kept sneaking it to make tea, so I planted a small bed of it just for him.”

“So this is homegrown? How lovely!” It hadn’t seemed possible for the man to become more bubbly than he had been at his office, but here they were. “It’s wonderful to know that you have something that you’re passionate about; I wouldn’t be surprised if you grew up to become a Potions Master!” Albert’s focus switched to Remus again. “Speaking of potions, what are the plans for Draco’s schooling? I read the record of the circumstances of his immigration, so I’m wondering about what precautions you’ll be taking for him attending, unless you’re planning on homeschooling?”

Remus shook his head, giving Draco a smile. “No, Draco will be going to Beauxbatons come September. We’ve got our foray to Le Centre Commercial planned for August fifteenth.” Though the boy didn’t know it yet, his “grandfathers” and Berlioz would be meeting them there as a surprise. “Madame Maxime is aware of his creature status as well as mine, and she was actually the one to certify his immigration. We contacted one of the Mind-Healers on the list you provided for us, and he’ll be visiting her weekly starting this Saturday. He’s allowed to have his meals in his rooms if he can’t manage the crowd, and I’ve actually spent the past year making a rudimentary map of the secret passages in the school.” Draco’s head snapped to him at that, delight in his eyes. “It’ll let him avoid the hallways if he’s having particular trouble, provided that he _promises-”_ A serious look in his son’s direction- “That he doesn’t use it for any sort of pranks.”

“You like to pull pranks on your dad, huh?” Albert’s fond expression grew as Draco grinned and Remus groaned. 

“Père used to be a member of this group called the Murderers-”

“ _Marauders,_ Cub.”

“Marauders, and they were the greatest pranksters ever! Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs even made a magical map that shows all of Hogwarts and where everyone is inside, but if you tell it the wrong password, it’ll just insult you!”

Albert’s eyebrows were up to his hairline as he turned impressed eyes on Remus. “That’s an impressive bit of charm work, Monsieur Lupin. You were in school when you did this?”

“I was working with three of my friends- Sirius, James, and Peter. We began it in our fourth year and finished in our sixth, but it was confiscated in our seventh,” the older werewolf said, sighing. “I regret ever telling Draco about our misadventures; he’s become quite the mini-Marauder, and I’m his only target. It took me a week to turn my hair back from pink that one time, and don’t get me started on the plague of toads!”

To his dismay, both the boy and the Monarchie worker laughed at that. Remus cut himself a slice of pie and waited for them to finish. 

When Albert finally brought himself back to rights, wiping a stray tear from his eye, he had another question. “Right, it seems that the school preparations are well on the way! This next question is more about you, Monsieur Lupin.” 

The werewolf in question refilled his cup and sat back. “Ask away.” 

“Do you have a significant other, specifically one that you plan on marrying or moving in with any time soon? Any potential spouses or occupants of this house will need to be checked out as a precaution.”

A small dart stabbed into Remus’s heart. “There was someone once, but he’s… not in the picture any longer. I’ve got all the family I need right here.” 

Draco smiled at that, but his expression reminded Remus that he’d never told his son of his relationship with Sirius. How did one start that conversation though? _Hey, son, I used to date your cousin, but now he’s in jail for the murder of thirteen Muggles and my other three best friends! Anyway, what would you like for dinner?_

Albert, who Remus was officially sure was some kind of saint, chose not to comment on the first part of his reply. “I have no words for how happy it makes me to see you two already building such a close father-son relationship! Are there any other adults or children that Draco interacts with regularly? You may want to talk to his Mind-Healer about social skills practice, if not.” 

“When I’m at work, he’s looked after by a close friend, Apothecary Matisse Berlioz, who owns Toadstools and Tinctures down in the village. They have my complete confidence, and Madame Maxime has known them since they were a teen and can vouch for them. We also have frequent visits from Thomas and Richard Barrow, who practically adopted me when I was younger. Draco hasn’t met a lot of kids his age, so we’ll be sure to take your advice this Saturday.” Remus’s reply seemed to satisfy the Monarchie worker, who simply took another bite of pie and hummed in appreciation.

“This pie is scrumptious; did you make it yourself?”

Draco snorted indelicately, drawing a huff from Remus. “Moony’s a great cook, but for some reason, he couldn’t bake if his life depended on it! Berlioz brought that over last time they visited and promised that they’d teach me how to make it.”

“Pup’s the baker in residence,” Remus elaborated. “I’m not allowed in the kitchen when he’s working- says it brings bad luck.”

Albert choked on his mouthful of pie, taking another drink of tea to stop himself from spraying food. When his coughing subsided, he replied with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “Sounds like what my wife does to me! Wang Li learned her art at Le Cordon Bleu itself, but I’m able to burn water if I’m not paying attention. She eventually put a barrier spell around the kitchen to keep me out!” He reached over and refilled his tea. “Anyway, I have to ask a less pleasant question now. Are you planning on pressing charges against Draco’s biological father?”

His son’s shoulders tightened, and Remus slowly laid a reassuring hand on the one closer to him. Mentions of The Bastard, as the werewolf had come to think of him, always set Draco on edge, even when he was in a good mood. “I was reading through the packet you provided us with, and it mentioned that we would have to see him in the courtroom and review the evidence. We talked about it and decided that we will take him to court, but not for a while. I want Draco to be able to heal before we revisit what happened to him. I almost threw up when I was reviewing the Healers’ reports of the damage he sustained from those two years- the curse damage alone was enough to convince me to keep Draco away from him for as long as he needs to recover. I’ll support his decision whether he’s ready now or not at all.”

A small hand covered Remus’s, and the man smiled at his son. “I’ll never hurt you, Blaidd, and I support you no matter what decision you come to in the end.” 

The Monarchie official quietly excused himself ‘to use the bathroom’, but neither father nor son really noticed as they took quiet solace in each other’s presence. 

Draco’s words were barely audible when he finally spoke, leaning into Remus’s hand. “I don’t have to do anything if I don’t want to, right?”

“You don’t need to do anything, Draco. It doesn’t matter if he’s behind bars or just back in Britain- he’ll _never_ touch you again.” If he did, it would be over Remus’s dead body. 

  
  


Monsieur Albert’s knock on the open door brought father and son back to the present, and his smile was reassuring when he retook his seat. 

“I only have one more question for you two, and it’s nowhere as serious as that last one.” Remus relaxed a little at the promise of no more unpleasant questions. “Would you like a familial bonding ceremony? It’s not necessary, but it was a lovely experience for me and my family. It makes everything feel a bit more real, if that makes any sense.”

It did. These past few days had felt like a dream, and even this conversation didn’t seem like a concrete reality. The look on Draco’s face told Remus that the feeling was mutual. 

“We’d love one,” the older werewolf decided.

“Excellent!” A schedule appeared on the table in front of him, and Albert consulted it. “Le Ministere de Les Fantomes has an open space in a little less than two months’ time: July twenty sixth. Would that work for you?”

There was no need for Remus to reply; Draco was already bouncing in his seat and nodding. Monsieur Albert chuckled a little at his excitement and scribbled something on the empty space in glowing gold ink before Vanishing the parchment again.

“6:00 on the twenty sixth, then! Now,” he stood up, rubbing his hands together. “How about a short tour of the house while I run through my diagnostics?”

  
  


**

The rest of the visit was short and flawless. A proud Draco led the Monarchie official through the rooms of the house as the man cast various spells, switching masterfully to wandless work when he realized that the boy was flinching every time he moved his wand too fast. 

Remus followed behind the two as his son pointed out his favorite things in the house, and found himself being reassured in his parenting. A year ago, Draco would hardly speak, automatically recoiling if he ever mentioned something that he did or didn’t like. Now he was leading a man that he had met once before around their house with excited comments about his potions lab, piano, and the drawings that “Père always hangs up, no matter how bad I think they are”. He’d truly blossomed, and Remus had grown with him.

He couldn’t fight the grin on his face as they explored. 

  
  


**

When they reached the living room again, Albert turned to the two of them with a pensive expression on his face. An icy hand grasped Remus’s heart, and he could distantly feel Draco’s hand slipping into his. 

Both the cold hand in his chest and the warm hand in his squeezed tighter when the official spoke. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but…” 

_OhMerlinohnopleasethiscouldn’tbehappening_

“There was absolutely nothing wrong with the house or your application,”

_Hecouldn’tloseDrac- Wait_

“And the only thing-” _Oh my God_ “Left to do-” _They’d done it_ “Is sign the forms!”

Albert was saying something more about the future ceremony at the Fantome Ministere and the number of witnesses needed, but Remus couldn’t hear anything. They had done it-

It was done and over and finished and _successful and they were father and son at last-_

Remus fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Draco, feeling a pair of thin arms encircle his neck as his _son_ _his son oh Merlin it’s official_ sank into his embrace. He could feel a wetness seeping through the shoulder of his jumper and knew that tears were falling from his eyes too.

He bent his head down and pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead. 

Draco Lupin. 

His son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fun fact: July 26th is International Parents Day. 
> 
> 2\. Blaidd is wolf in Welsh. 
> 
> Oop check it out! Aidra’s back, and she’s got more ~magical lore~
> 
> The following definitions are from Pott’s Dictionary of Magical Obscurities
> 
> Familial bond (n.): A “tie” between all members of a magical family that attaches to an individual’s magical core when they first display accidental magic. The final step in a magical adoption is the performance of a government-regulated spell in the country’s department for regulated spells (i.e. The Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries) that creates a new familial bond between the parent(s) and child. Any bonds to previous family will dissolve, though some ancient families have additional safeguards. For more information, see: Annulirovat’ Curse, dissolution tracking, branched bonding
> 
> To be burnt off of the family tree (v.): (1) A Pureblood tradition where offending relations are physically burnt off of the family’s tapestry (2) A term for the process of magical disownment (cutting of familial bonds) in which the disowned party has the connection to the family severed. Unlike the physical burning, the individual on the receiving end is well aware of the development, due to the process being “not dissimilar to being burnt alive for a few moments”. 
> 
> Annulivrovat’ Curse (n.): A banned spell dating from the Ivanhov-Petych Conflict of 1782. Created by the Ivanhov family patriarch, Maksim Ivanhov, the Annulivrovat Hex is able to break a person’s familial bonds without their knowledge or consent. (Though not a threat in modern times, eighteenth century wizards, especially old families like the Petych and Ivanhov lines, warded their houses and vaults against any who lacked the indication of relation.) Half of the Petych clan suddenly found themselves barred from their homes and money, effectively ending the conflict. As news spread from Russia, many Eurasian wizarding families took precautions, including triple bonding and dissolution tracking, to avoid sharing the Petych family’s fate.
> 
> Dissolution tracking (n.): A magical process in which the patriarch of a family is notified if a familial bond is being dissolved or overwritten and the location of the act.
> 
> Branched bonding (n.): A heritable pattern of familial bonds where instead of one magical cord connecting one family member to another, there are multiple thinner connections attached to different levels of the magical core. This makes connections more difficult to sever.


	10. The Final Step Before The Finish Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't confuse anyone with the username change :/
> 
> Special thanks to Elaine_O'Roake for presenting some great views on my name considerations and for opening up a chance for me to review all of my options. (I'm sorry about the massive reply that I dumped on you!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be the first to admit that my main story is a bit rushed at the beginning. I gave you a chapter (a chapter!) for the development of Remus and Draco’s friendship, for God’s sake! To remedy this, I’m proud to announce the creation of Fireside Stories! 
> 
> Fireside Stories is a collection of Marauders, post-Halloween, and canon era one shots revolving around our BUABS cast of characters. They’re listed roughly in order of posting, and I'll have another collection of things to introduce soon! (Am I making a massive compendium of all of the lore and worldbuilding details for this story? Yes.)
> 
> The Middle Name Conundrum: Draco tries to decide on his middle name. Directly pre-ceremony, fluff  
> The Muggle Education of Draco Lupin: Hope Lupin comes to visit. Post-ceremony setting, fluff (lots of it)  
> The Amazing Firework Show: Draco’s first bout of accidental magic in Forest Cottage. Pre-adoption setting, fluff & angst  
> Life In A Bubble: A brief look into Aurelia’s post-Christmas life and her feelings on Draco. Spans from Chapter 1 on, character based  
> Watching and Waiting and Worrying All The While: The diary entries of Mr. Thomas Barrow from 1971-1981. Marauders era through Remus’s emigration, Remus/Sirius mentioned, angst  
> The Holiness of the Heart’s Affections and the Truth of Imagination: Meet Bevan and Aiden. Character based  
> all of us ghosts: Midnight has passed. November 1st, 1981 is a good day for absolu-fucking-lutely no one. Post-Halloween, mentioned Sirius/Remus, mentioned Lily/James, Big Angst  
> Let’s Take Tea: Remus and Sirius come to the Barrows’ for tea. Marauders post-Hogwarts era, Remus/Sirius, Thomas/Richard, pure undiluted fluff  
> Lobelia: Harry tries to get Draco flowers, but the response is icy. Nothing makes sense. BUABS canon-era, Harry/Draco, fluff and humor  
> A Study In The Senses Of The Teenage Werewolf: Hermione wants to learn more about the sharp senses of werewolves. BUABS canon-era, Harry/Draco, fluff and humor

The room was dimly lit at first; the couple of candles burning had only been added at Moony’s request. Draco hadn’t understood the idea of performing such an important ceremony in conditions where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, but Spectre Adeline had only smiled mysteriously at his queries. 

He would have pressed her more, but the other Spectre, whose name he hadn’t caught, directed them onto the circular dais in the centre of the room. Adeline, once satisfied that each of them was in the correct runic circle, turned to face her partner and grasped his right forearm in hers. The unnamed man turned his hand to take hers, and Draco was reminded of a summer day a lifetime ago, when his six year old self had found a book in the Manor’s library about the Unbreakable Vow. He didn’t understand most of the theory at the time, but he remembered one illustration- a witch and a wizard standing in a pose almost identical to the one now taken by the two Fantome Ministere operatives. 

Their demonstration now complete, the Monarchie pair left the dais and joined the other witnesses. The two of them, along with Berlioz, the Barrows, and Draco's new grandparents (who had come from Wales the moment they heard the news) would certify that everything was above board with the ceremony. The rest was up to him and his father.

Remus reached a hand across the gap between their circles and took Draco’s forearm, carefully avoiding the scar of one particularly nasty Flagrante Curse. A slight humming noise, familiar like the faint smell of a childhood toy or the sound of a forgotten lullaby, filled his head as he turned his hand to hold his father's in turn.

His Père took a deep breath before beginning the words that they had practiced constantly, encouraging each other into perfect recitation over cups of tea. 

“I, Remus John Lupin, do solemnly take into my heart and home he who was once Draco Lucius Malfoy. I swear to protect him from all who would do him harm, to provide, comfort and love him as I would had he been born unto me. From this day until the end of days he will be my son, the grandson of my parents, and the descendant of my ancestors, and I will respect and love him to the very degree that he is due. My magical core recognizes him as kin, and with these words I receive him into the Lupin family line.”

The circle of runes around him began to glow, and he and Draco looked on in amazement as a stream of gold spiraled from his chest, flowing down his shoulder to where it began to wrap around their joined wrists. They both watched it in awe for a second, bewitched by its soft glow, and Draco figured out why most began the ritual in total darkness. The humming in his head grew louder, a beautiful tune emerging from the nondescript whispers. It was his turn to speak, wasn’t it? 

He cleared his throat and raised a prayer to the magic of the world. His memory would not fail him, not today. “I, who once was Draco Lucius Malfoy, do solemnly take unto myself the name of Draco Lyall Thomas Lupin, also taking unto myself all members of that family therein. From this day until the end of days I will be the son of Remus John Lupin, the grandson of Lyall and Hope Lupin, the godson of Thomas Joseph and Richard William Barrow, and I will love and respect them to the very degree that they are due. My magical core recognizes them as kin, and with these words I add myself to the Lupin family line.” 

An unimaginable warmth spread through his body as the runes around him began to glow, and a scintillating stream of quicksilver sprang from his chest. It tingled as it curled down his arm and joined with Remus’s gold, growing in brightness all the while. 

The coiled magic around their hands was joyous, lighting up every corner of the room with its merry glow. It was a living thing; he could feel it filling the entirety of his soul, bringing its chiming music and brilliant light. A wind swirled around the chamber, and he could have sworn that he heard something akin to giggling as his hair began to slip from its plait and fly around his face. He felt the need to laugh himself as the magic's childlike glee settled into his very bones.

The song in Draco’s head swelled to a crescendo and the light grew blinding. Père's eyes were shining with pride and elation as they met his, and the two smiled at each other as they spoke the final words.

“So mote it be.” 

The whole room went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Yeah I won't update for like a week or so  
> Also me: Hey guys have this
> 
> I know it's short; I'm sorry :(


	11. The Expanse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be fluff, but my hand slipped. 
> 
> Also, I made a Discord server for this story! I'd love to get to know each and every one of you <3  
> My tag: BeingsOfStardustAreWe#0239

The blinding glow coming through Draco’s eyelids faded after a moment to a much more manageable brightness, and he carefully opened his eyes. The whole thing was done now; forms and formalities complete, and he ready to jump into his father’s arms and never leave.

But there was no warm smile there to greet him when his vision returned. His Père wasn’t there, and neither was anything else. 

The room had vanished into thin air, and he was instead standing alone on an endless white plane. It was silent and desolate, unsettlingly familiar. _But why?_ He turned in a slow circle, but it was the same everywhere he looked: a featureless expanse broken only by the horizon. A small seed of panic formed in his stomach. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

The seed quickly sprouted into a twisted mess of brambles as he figured out what was so familiar about the emptiness. His cell at the Manor had been pitch black and tiny, but something about the limitless brightness was just as oppressive. He felt small; the nonexistent ceiling was pressing down on him just like the walls of that tiny hell. 

He dropped to his knees in search of the feeling of solid floor beneath him, but there was nothing. Even the still air seemed featureless, neither hot nor cold as he breathed it in faster and faster. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to block out the glow of his surroundings, tried to picture Moony, but the vine was tangled in his head now, thorns digging into his brain. He pinched his forearm in desperation, but nothing happened. There was nothing. No pain. No feeling. _Nonononono_

Panicked, he dug his fingers into his arms harder, nails scraping at them. _Why couldn’t he feel anything?_ Merlin, he just needed to _feel!_ He reached with one hand to tug at his hair, accidentally pulling out a few strands with the force of it. _Nothing! Please Merlin he needed to feel something anything even the cell had something there had been cold and hard stone and pain but this was just empty and he didn’t want to be empty anymore take him back home he wanted warm and plants and sun and Moony where was Pere he needed his dad please he wanted to go home what was this_

His hands were jerked away from his body as if someone were tugging them away, but there was no feeling from it and now he didn’t even have his hands free and he couldn’t move _and there was absolutely nothing and he was facing up so he couldn’t even see the floor so there was only bright bright white with nothing to it but now his vision was going dark and though he couldn’t feel it he knew that his head was probably spinning from breathing the fake air too fast and he was going to pass o_

  
**

Remus watched in horror as Spectre Evander took hold of Draco’s hands, holding them away from arms that were now covered in pink scratches. One had broken the scab of a recent full-moon injury, and small drops of blood were falling onto the white robes that the boy had shown him so excitedly that morning. Spectre Adeline was doing something in the background, but he couldn’t hear her words over the roaring in his ears, much less look away from Draco. 

As if looking did anything. But he couldn’t do anything else; he was a bystander watching from the sidelines as eyes that had gone completely white had poured tears down the cheeks of the child he had sworn to protect from all harm not five minutes before. He had stood by, as helpful as a marble statue, as his son began to hyperventilate, scratching his arms and tearing at his hair. And now he was a useless spectator as Draco finally passed out in Evander’s arms.

Adeline was speaking again. When had she come to crouch next to him? She was talking in a reassuring tone, but why? Draco needed help and reassurance, not Remus. 

“...r Lupin?” She was in his field of vision now, all concerned eyes and pursed lips. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, sorry,” he replied absentmindedly. Evander was carrying Draco up to the dais now, but when had Remus climbed down from it? Why was he in a chair now? Where had his parents gone? Where were Berlioz and the Barrows? The operative’s voice registered again, and he forced himself back to the present again.

“...multiple diagnostic charms, and I’ve determined the cause of your son’s reaction.” He pivoted to face her more fully now, though his eyes didn’t leave the slight figure in the other Spectre’s arms. 

“What happened?” Why was his sleeve wet? Wait, his cheeks were too. He’d been crying. “Will he be okay? What’s wrong?”

The pacifying tone of her voice took him back to the potions shop a year before, where he’d spoken to Draco the same way. Like he would break if touched. Like a scared and hurt animal geared to flee. “There was a curse placed on the lingering strings of his previous familial bonds. It’s very rare nowadays- so much so that it isn’t even part of the tests we run.”

Draco had been nervous about the tests, so Remus had sat with him the whole time that a Spectre from the Arcane Studies Department had searched through his magical core for any sort of complications. There had been nothing to indicate any sort of locating or permanency charm, the witch had decided, and though the remnants of his bond to the Malfoy family were still present deep down, they were sickly and would dissolve the moment the ritual began. There would be no problems, she’d said.

But they’d missed something, and now his son was suffering. 

He took a breath and shook his head. Now was not the time to be angry. Now was the time to find out what had happened and learn how to fix it. 

That reasoning wasn’t enough to keep him from practically snarling his next question, though. “What does it do?”

“It’s rather creatively called the Oblivion Hex,” she began, voice as calm as before. “It was developed by a man rather aptly named Matthew Manywife, who was apparently such a bore that each-”

“I honestly don’t give a shit about the history right now- what does it _do_?” 

“The victim finds themselves stranded in what’s been described as an endless white room with no ceiling, unable to feel, hear, smell, or taste. Originally crafted in the Middle Ages to stop women from remarrying if they ever decided to leave their husband, the action of overwriting a previous bond, no matter how decayed, triggers it. Think extreme sensory deprivation- extended exposure has a history of driving people mad.”

_Oh Merlin. Draco didn’t deserve this._ “You can break it?”

She nodded and gestured towards the dais, where her partner was kneeling on the floor next to Draco, who had been gently lowered onto the black marble. “Evander’s already working etching the runes for the countercurse, but we’ll also need your help.”

“Anything.” _He’d rip out his own heart if he had to._

“He needs someone to call him back, a lifeline if you will.” Adeline glanced back over at the pair on the platform again. “You just need to talk to him, provide something for him to hold onto.”

As if sensing that his partner was done talking, the Spectre in the center of the room waved to them. The woman gave a short nod in reply and stood up. “It’s ready.”

They ascended the steps again, and the werewolf flew to his son’s side the moment he crossed the top. Draco lay on his side inside a freshly carved circle, limbs loose and body terrifyingly limp. Remus took one small hand in his as the two Fantome Ministere operatives began to chant. The runes around them slowly came to life, pulsing with blue light.

“Hey, Pup,” his voice was rough as he started to speak, placing his other hand on the boy’s cold forehead. “Did I tell you about what I’ve got planned for our school shopping trip in August? Your godfathers and Berlioz are going to meet us there as a surprise, and we’ll all go to the shops together. It’s good that Berlioz is coming along; they’re the only one of us who actually went to Beauxbatons. I’m fairly sure that we’d be lost without them, especially in the wand department. They’ve been telling me all these stories about a travelling shop that sells wands of unmatched power and quality, but you can only find it if you’re with someone who’s been there before. You know how Ollivanders in Diagon Alley has three kinds of wand cores that they offer? This place apparently has nigh on a hundred options for cores that ensure that each one of their creations is perfectly attuned to its bearer. I can't wait to see what you’re paired with; it’ll have to be the strongest, most powerful wand around if it’s to keep up with you. 

"Mam has been raring to get to know everything about you, you know? I was going through the post at around midnight two days ago and found a Howler from her. I ran it out of the house before it woke you." He chuckled at the memory, brushing his hand up from Draco's forehead to comb the last remnants of the braid from his hair. "She's invited the two of them over to stay since she claims that it's high time she got to meet her grandson. I think you two’ll get along like a house on fire, though she'll probably lock you in a room with her to teach you about all things entertainment. She’s a Muggle, remember, and she has always been adamant about me knowing about both worlds. I think you'll like Bruce Banner; he's a chemist, which is the Muggle equivalent of a Potion's Master. Spider-Man seems right up your alley too, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to walk into a room to find you climbing on the ceiling.”

The chanting around them grew in speed, and he began to feel a faint warmth in his heart, the same that he had felt during the bonding ritual only a few minutes before. _Draco was coming back._ Tears of relief flowed freely as Remus went right back to talking. 

“You already know about why the Marauders decided to become Animagi when we were fifteen, but I never told you how it came about. Before you can even begin to _think_ about spells or potions, you have to hold a Mandrake leaf under your tongue for a whole month. If you swallow it or accidentally spit it out, you have to redo the whole thing, no matter how close you are to the end of the month. The leaves made it difficult to eat and impossible to speak intelligibly, and you should have heard the different excuses that those three used to explain their silence! Wormtail claimed that he was the victim of a Tongue-Tying Curse so potent that no one could counter it- he just had to wait until it wore off. Padfoot said that he was raising awareness about how funny he was. Prongs told people that he was forcing himself to practice non-verbal magic, though he would tell Lily on a daily basis that her beauty had actually rendered him permanently speechless. If anyone asked, I would tell people that they were locked in a fierce round of the Silent Game." The heat grew a little warmer, and he felt Draco stir slightly in his arms. 

"Even though both are forms of shapeshifting, there’s a huge difference between being an Animagus and being a werewolf. For one, the transformation doesn’t hurt after the first time. You can shift whenever you like as long as you have your wand on you, and you stay in full control of yourself. Sounds fun, yeah? What do you think; would that be a fun thing for a future summer? Learn all we can about Animagi, see what happens? We can do all that and more once you're free, Cub. Just keep following my voice."

  
**

Something appeared in the depths of Draco’s unconscious- a thin thread of glowing silver stretching away into the dark abyss. He regarded it with curiosity, trying to figure out what it was. It led somewhere important, didn't it? Somewhere warm and safe, with people who cared about him. Home. 

Perhaps he was wrong, though. What if it was a trick from the whiteness meant to lure him back to that terrible place? What if it was here to drag him out of his amnesic peace? 

He reached out warily and plucked the thread experimentally, only to recoil in shock at the sudden rush of sensation. It was warm, and he could feel it! Tingles emanated from where his hand had touched the cord. Strange- he didn’t remember having a body a moment ago. The appendage didn’t get the message, apparently, because it remained, flexing and bending at his will. He grabbed the thread again.

The feeling was like static electricity sparking across every part of his rapidly solidifying body, and from his hazy approximation of existence burst the sharp feeling of self, full of vivid memories and unshrouded emotions. There was a voice coming from down the line, instantly identified as his father’s even though the words weren’t yet audible. Moony sounded scared, and Draco began to pull himself along the string towards him. 

The voice grew in clarity as he traveled, words forming with meaning following. “...hat do you think; would that be a fun thing for a future summer? Learn all we can about Animagi, see what happens? We can do all that and more once you're free, Cub. Just keep following my voice." 

The climbing boy grinned at the idea. Running through the woods as a wolf was always amazing, but he’d love to be able to do it during the day (and more than once a month). Or maybe he would be a bird, soaring over everything! He sped up, listening to his father’s words of encouragement. 

“You’re so close, mon chou. Just keep going for a little longer, okay?”

A light appeared ahead, and Draco let go of the thread, allowing himself to be pulled up and out of the dark. 


	12. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm so sorry that this took so long! My hours at work have been switched around, and it's thrown me off of my rhythm. Thank you for all of your lovely comments; they've been great motivation for me to get back in stride. 
> 
> This chapter is a short bridge and not as fluffy as I wanted following the last one, but I needed to do it before we got in to the Good Stuff. The long awaited shopping trip approaches!

Draco came back to consciousness in pieces, senses returning one by one. His face was resting on scratchy-soft fabric, and warm arms were wrapped around his torso, keeping him off of the cold ground. There was a hand carding through his hair.

A familiar scent of chamomile and parchment came next, and he smiled contentedly. Pére. 

Moony's chest rumbled as he began to speak in a voice barely above a whisper. "Hey there, Pup, how are you feeling?"

"Mmm… head hurts." Felt like someone had managed to cast a localized Cruciatus, to be honest.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He searched his brain, only to find a blank spot. Had he passed out? "No." 

"Do you want to go home?"

He shook his head and immediately regretted it as his brain seemed to rattle around in his skull. "Nain and Taid said we'd go for dinner."

"We can go when you're feeling better, Cub; there's no need to push yourself."

“Promise?”

Pére nodded against his head. “Promise.”

  
  


**

A short check up, a few potions, and an unbelievable amount of fussing later, the Lupin party was cleared to leave. The Barrows split off towards the International Apparation Station with a cryptic see-you-later, and the remaining five hastened out of the catacombs. 

The night air was warm and laced with the smells of freshly baked bread and cigarettes when they emerged onto the street, and Draco inhaled deeply, the feeling of being outside, even in the city, chasing away some of the nervous energy that had begun to brew under his skin during all of the time underground. He heard a pleased sigh from beside him as Moony did the same. 

Berlioz gave Draco a brief hug and ruffled his hair before bidding them all farewell and disappearing with a pop. The boy looked at his grandparents, expecting them to say goodbye too, but they didn’t. His new calm was shattered as they grasped hands and disappeared as well. He stared dumbly at the place where they had stood, silver brimming in his eyes. Why didn’t they say goodbye? Did they not like him? 

As always, Pére instantly keyed into his mood’s turn for the worst and knelt down beside him, reaching out to wipe a thumb under his eye. “What’s wrong, love?”

He could feel another tear slip from his eyes. “Do… do they not like me?” 

“What?” Moony’s voice was shocked and sad, and Draco internally kicked himself. He’d made Pére sad again! “What would make you think that?”

“Th- they didn’t say bye.”

“Oh Merlin- I didn’t tell you! Or at least I did, but you were unconscious- I’m sorry, Draco,” his dad rambled, looking upset at himself. “Nain sent me a letter a couple of days ago, saying that I’d kept you to myself long enough. They both love you so much already and want to get to know everything about you, so she invited both of them over for the rest of the summer. We were going to surprise you after the ceremony, but it slipped everyone’s minds after what happened. They didn’t say bye because we’re going to see them again in a second.”

Draco’s heart jumped, brain rushing to catch up to the incredible news. A smile split his face even as he began to sob. Nain and Taid didn’t hate him. They weren’t disappointed by him. They wanted to get to know him- they _loved_ him. 

Moony’s arms wrapped around him again, and he buried himself into the embrace, squeezing his dad tightly before letting go. 

“In that case,” he decided, wiping the tears away. He’d cried so much today, but at least those had been happy tears. “Let’s go home.”


	13. Happy Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Shopping is next chapter.

Life at Forest Cottage settled down again after that day, and Draco was in awe of how easily their routine had molded to fit in the two new inhabitants of the house.

It was like his grandparents had been there the whole time. They fit themselves seamlessly into the flow of life, bringing love and new experiences with them. They brought fishing trips and conversations about magic, movie nights and language lessons. They brought cawls, bara brith, and embarrassing stories about Pére’s childhood. 

Nain introduced him to Star Wars and Marvel comics, and Moony had jumped out of his skin when he came into the kitchen one morning to find Draco crawling on the ceiling. (‘How did you even  _ do  _ that?’, he’d asked later, prompting an excited rant about the unexpected applications of sticking potions.) 

Taid balanced out his wife’s quest to teach Draco about everything Muggle with lessons in magical theory, wizarding culture, music, and language. (‘You’re a wizard and my grandson, fy ngwas i. I won’t send you out to the world only knowing half of your heritage.’) Welsh was first on the docket at Draco’s insistence- he wanted to know what everyone was _ saying,  _ dang it!

The days were full and happy; peaceful Welsh-only breakfasts bleeding into afternoons of potions with Berlioz, gardening with Moony, and adventuring with the friendly animals of the woods, wrapping up with convivial dinners and flipping coins to decide between movies or reading in the study. 

The arrival of his Beauxbatons acceptance letter had sparked an impromptu party, during which his grandparents also revealed a belated birthday present- a school trunk, embossed with his initials and empty save a note that declared  _ IOU one school shopping trip.  _

There were still full moons and the sickness that came with them, but the excitement of exploration in the form of a wolf made it bearable. There were still panic attacks and flashbacks, but now Amelie was teaching him how to avoid them. Nightmares would still wake him up, shaking and drenched in cold sweat, mind trying to cling to memories of a blindingly white expanse that slipped away like water through his fingers. There were still flinches at sudden movements and drawn wands, but there was also the knowledge that he was safe, that he was home. There was the knowledge that he would never be hurt again.

For all of its flaws, life was perfect. 

**

Draco jolted upright in bed, trying not to scream at the feeling up being trapped in his blankets as he looked about the room wildly. Lucius was somewhere here- he knew it. He was waiting in the shadows, waiting for Draco to let his guard down so that he could strike and bring darkness and hunger and pain. He would never lea-

“No,” Draco told the silence of the room, just barely lit by the first rays of dawn. “He’s not here. He’s not here and never will be, because he’s far away and will never hurt me again.”

He could see Amelie’s smile in his mind’s eye. “I’m safe, and he has no hold over me anymore.” 

The pounding of blood in his ears quieted as he breathed in, taking in the smells of the house and the world outside his open window. It had rained last night if the scents of wet grass and fresh mud were anything to go by. Smell of coffee from downstairs- Moony was awake. 

He extracted himself from the blanket prison and padded out of the room, slowly sliding down the bannister to avoid the creaky stairs. Nain was terrifying when her sleep was interrupted.

Pére looked up the moment he entered the living room, smiling and rushing over to give the boy a warm hug and a quick kiss on the top of his head. 

“Mornin’, Pup.” He didn’t mention the early hour. “What’d you like for breakfast?”

“Mmm,” Draco tapped his chin, “Can we make pancakes?”

“Blueberry?” 

_ As if that was a question. _ Draco gave his dad an unimpressed look, and Moony chuckled, shaking his head. “Why do I even ask?” 

Draco snorted and grabbed his dad’s hand, guiding him to the kitchen. Pére took an apron off of the rack, and after a moment of deliberation, Draco grabbed one too. 

“I can help, right?” 

His unimpressed look from before was mirrored back at him, and he giggled. “Why did I even ask?” Apron secured, he grabbed the dry ingredients from the pantry and slipped into the relaxing routine of cooking. 

**

The first of the pancakes were sizzling on the pan when Remus finally broke the comfortable silence. 

“You’re up early; was that from nightmares or excitement for today?”

Draco, who had abandoned his role as kitchen assistant to sit on the counter and eat blueberries, furled his brow in confusion. “We're doing something today? Wait- don’t tell me- it’s on the tip of my tongue!” He popped another berry into his mouth and chewed slowly, legs swinging as he tried to think. 

Remus chuckled at his son’s antics as he flipped the pancakes. “I’ll give you a hint: we’re going to Nice.”

He didn’t get a direct reply, but the sudden disappearance of the boy from the kitchen and the running footsteps on the stairs told him that his message had come through loud and clear.


	14. If You Give A Dragon A Book...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the shopping trip! Feat: Draco being a huge nerd, and the motley crew of parents being very proud of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I detest this chapter. It's so disjointed and ughh 
> 
> The second half (the better half :/) of the shopping trip is coming soon!

Draco clambered back down the stairs a moment later, dressed in a comfortable navy jumper with moving constellations on it and a pair of well-worn jeans, hair woven into a loose braid. To his dismay, it was another hour before his grandparents were up and ready, and another fifteen minutes waiting outside of Toadstools and Tinctures before Berlioz emerged.

Finally, the group of five were clasping hands and disappearing.

***

The dizziness of apparition faded after a moment, and Draco waited for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the day. When they did, he gasped in shock and sprinted forward, leaping into the arms of his waiting godfather. 

"Mr. Barrow! What are you two doing here?"

The old werewolf laughed and squeezed him, lifting the boy clear off the ground. "Your dad thought you might want some company for your first shopping run."

Draco was returned to Earth, and another voice spoke from next to him. 

"And what am I- chopped liver?"

"Richard!!" The joyful eleven year old gave his other godfather the same treatment before turning to his dad, smiling from cheek to cheek. "Thank you, Pére!"

Moony tried for a nonchalant shrug that did nothing to disguise his happiness at his son's excitement and pulled the shopping list from his pocket. Draco took it gladly and scanned it. 

“Right… so it looks like we already have some of the stuff on here. Broom, cauldron, and potion kit are all set… So really all I’ll be needing is robes, books, and my wand.” There was no hiding the excitement in his voice at that last word, and he glanced up at the sign in front of them, that proudly advertised the literary quarter of Le Centre Commercial. “Suppose we’ll start with books.”

The adults, knowing full well what was coming, groaned.

***

“Pére! Pére,  _ look! _ ” Remus could feel his eyes cross as they tried to focus on the book that had been shoved in his face.  _ The Allure and Lore of the World’s Wizarding Schools.  _ “It’s got everything on the history, architecture, mythos, structure, and traditions of every wizarding school on the continent!” Draco’s eyes were wide as they peeped over the top of the cover, and his dad sighed.

“Alright, but this is one of your five, remember? Five extracurricular books to tide you over until school starts, then you’ll have the library.”

The boy bounced on his toes and darted back into the stacks, dodging the Barrows, who were poring over an Herbology book. Berlioz saw Remus and elbowed him slightly. 

“Pride is absolutely  _ oozing _ off of you, mon ami.” The words were teasing, and their tone reflected the same pride that Remus felt when they continued to talk. “He’s grown into a fine young man, hasn’t he? Smart as the sky is blue.”

The werewolf nodded, smile broadening when he heard Tad's voice from deep in the mountains of books, telling someone (probably- no- definitely Draco) that he could ‘retrieve the book with magic- no need to break your back falling from the shelf!’ A second later, his son was emerging from the shelves again, armed with another book. 

“Pére! Pére,  _ look-  _ this one’s on Legilimency!” 

***

It wasn’t until noon that they left the bookstore, laden down with texts on every topic imaginable. Draco groaned as he adjusted the pile of books in his arms. 

“Can we drop these by home before we go any further? Turns out my light reading isn’t-” He tried to shift them again, stumbling when his volume of  _ Wards: How To Make Them, How To Break Them _ almost slipped off the top. “Light.”

Moony, equally encumbered, nodded. “Let’s; we can have lunch while we’re there.”

Berlioz, strangely bookless, hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose we could interrupt our trip. Or…” Draco’s books were taken from his hands and disappeared into the depths of the apothecary’s satchel. “We could take advantage of my bag’s Undetectable Extension Charm and proceed with the rest of our trip unencumbered.”

A resounding chorus of cheers and a tight hug from Draco made the family’s opinions on that option clear, and, books successfully stored, they set off.

***

As they walked, Richard brought up the next order of business. “I think we ought to split up for a while. We’re near the clothing district, but these old bones need some food to hold them up. We old codgers’ll drop you two off at the robe shop before going off in search of lunch. We might even bring some back!”

The agreement was solid yet again, though Nain did insist on staying with Draco and Moony. “You know what I like, love,” she’d insisted when they arrived, kissing Taid’s cheek, “And we both know our son’s taste in clothes. Cyw’ll need more than his input to make good clothing decisions.”

Moony made a slightly affronted noise. “There’s a difference between not having the money to dress myself in the past and not having good fashion sense.”

“Yes, yes, fine, I won’t tease you. I would like to stay, though,” she said. “I can’t wait to see Draco all ready for his first year at school!”

Any other boy in his eleventh year of life might have felt embarrassed at her declaration and the subsequent kiss that was pressed to his forehead, but Draco preened. Two years ago this would have been a fever dream. Even if he’d turned out to be “normal”, he probably would never have had a family like this. He’d probably have gone to the robe shop in Diagon Alley by himself. 

Instead here he was, walking through the doorway of the French branch of Madame Malkin’s with his dad and grandmother beside him, hearing Pére quietly request from the witch at the front that all wand movements during the fitting be slow and obvious, and feeling ready for anything that the world could throw at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I be like: drops Welsh terms of endearment like sprinkles on a five year old's ice cream cone
> 
> Cyw= chick, little bird


	15. A Frost Sprite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hhhh I love Baba Yaga's aesthetic so
> 
> Draco's robes are inspired by these:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cb/cb/77/cbcb77b614b25fa48dad64197503f3f6.jpg  
> https://laughingunderthemurkywaters-666.tumblr.com/post/161507798727/its-not-just-you-babeits-not-just-you-creds-to  
> https://weheartit.com/entry/253692445
> 
> Idk I have the image in my head?? Don't know how well it translated ://

The fitting went smoothly, and Draco soon found himself standing in a changing room, a set of powder blue robes hanging in thin air in front of him. He reached out, stroking a finger down one soft sleeve, feeling like he was in a dream. These were his school robes. He was going to school. Not even the textbooks had really cemented it, but now it felt like a solid fact of the universe. Draco was going to a magical school. He was a wizard.

He shook himself and quickly changed, not daring to look at himself in the mirror until he was done. The robes were soft inside and out, and seemed to ripple around him like water. He turned towards the mirror. 

Even his untrained eye could tell that they fit perfectly. Not just dimensions, either- the color  _ fit _ him, brightening his eyes and taking the pallidity of near-moon sickness from his skin. His hair looked white and lustrous, and it only seemed right to take it out of its braid and let it fall to his shoulders. 

The robe was fitted close to his torso and could be buttoned down to his waist, at which point it parted to reveal a matching pair of pressed blue pants. The top had a detachable capelet which came down to his elbows, and it cheerfully swished around as he fidgeted with the silver clasps that held it on. 

The mirror chipped in its own two cents in a warm voice that reminded him of Nain. “You look absolutely wonderful, dear. Like a frost sprite.”

He smiled bashfully at his reflection. “Thank you. I’m going to go show my family now, I guess.” 

“You’ll knock ‘em dead, love!” The glass cheered as he turned to the door and slowly opened it. 

Pére stood up the moment the door creaked open, Nain following a second later. Draco stepped out from around the door completely, and felt his cheeks heat up at the gleeful looks on their faces.

“Oh, Draco…” Nain trailed off. “You look… I… I have no words.”

Next to her, Moony was literally glowing. Draco looked at him in shock; it was a rare occasion for a fully grown wizard to let his magic get away from him. 

He spun slowly for them, feeling the capelet flare a little. Nain clapped and cheered, and Pére’s glow grew brighter. 

A rap on the window caused Draco to jump, and he looked outside to see the rest of his family, all grinning like fools. Berlioz wolf-whistled.

“Come in!” Draco mouthed to them, but they shook their head.

“Can’t come inside- no food allowed,” they mouthed back, holding up a wrapped crepe. “We got one for each of you.”

Draco bounced on the balls of his feet and quickly ducked into the changing rooms again, getting back into his day clothes at the speed of light. He was  _ hungry _ .

He came out to find that Moony had just finished paying for the robes, which meant that it was time for two things. 

One: it was time for lunch.

Two: It was time to start their search for the Wandering Wand Shop. 

Mr. Barrow ruffled his hair the moment that they stepped out of the shop, chuckling as Draco tried fruitlessly to fix it before casting a wandless Tidy Me Charm. “You’ve truly grown up, Pup. Getting your school robes and books… it’s enough to make an old man cry.”

“But you’re not old,” Draco countered. “You’re  _ distinguished _ .”

“Right so!” 

  
  


***

“But where do you  _ find  _ the Wandering Wand Shop? It’s wandering, isn’t it?”

“Draco.”

“Or is it just hidden, like under a Fidelius Charm or something? You  _ did _ say that one can only find the shop if they’re with someone who’s been before-”

“ _ Draco. _ ” Berlioz groaned. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh all right.” 

The other adults in the group laughed as Draco’s attention, now diverted from the mysteries of the missing wand shop, was captured by a candy display in the window of a nearby store. He studied it with interest, picking out various elements of the moving display and turning them over in his mind. How did that candy stick’s stripes move? What allowed those gumballs to change color every five seconds? 

A quiet ‘aha!’ from Berlioz yanked his attention right back to the present. The apothecary was smiling. 

“I’ve got it now!” Their eyes were bright with excitement as they peered down the thin alley between a patisserie and a grocers. “It’s down this way!”

  
  


***

The group followed the excited apothecary in a single file line down the alley, all blinking in surprise as they stepped out into a sunny clearing that had definitely not been there a moment before. Draco’s eyes struggled against the change, and he had to close them against the sudden burst of pain. Pére’s hand found his shoulder, steadying him.

When the world finally came into focus, he had to take a double take to make sure that his eyes weren’t still playing tricks on him. 

Nope- the massive chicken foot was still there. Draco lifted his eyes, following the scaly foot up to the equally scaly leg, at the end of which was-

“Welcome,” Berlioz cheered. “To the Wandering Wand Shop!”


	16. The Wandering Wand Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this was hard to write...

As if sensing their arrival, the shop’s legs folded themselves under it, and it settled on the ground. Now that they were closer, he could see the flowing cursive on the sign above the door, identifying it as the Wandering Wand Shop. 

Berlioz walked forward immediately, opening the door and bowing flamboyantly. “After you, my liege.”

Draco giggled and climbed the steps after them. “Thank you, Berlioz,” he said in his most haughty tone, dramatically flipping his hair before crossing the threshold into the store.

The interior reminded him more of a cabin’s living room than a shop’s front room. The floor was dark wood, the walls made of grey stones. A simple chandelier hung from the rafters above, shedding warm firelight over the soft looking armchairs around the coffee table and the cluttered desk in the corner. Several brimming bookshelves were set against the wall beside the desk. A colorful rug was spread in front of the unlit fireplace. 

Apart from the rack of wands on the desk, it didn’t look like a wand shop at all. 

The cool air, laden with the scent of every wood he could think of, told a different story. It was crackling with the staticy feeling of multiple layers of magic. It brushed along Draco’s skin like a friendly cat, and he shivered. Magic was wonderful. 

A door that he hadn’t noticed swung open, and a woman stepped into the room, brushing her hands off on the sides of her casual blue robes. 

“Berlioz! It’s so good to see you again! Who’s this?”

Berlioz ruffled Draco’s hair, evoking a playful scowl. “This is Draco. He’s here for his first wand.”

“Excellent! Beauxbatons, yes?” Her dark eyes focused on him, and though he shifted awkwardly under the attention, her smile was so friendly that he couldn’t help but smile back. She beckoned them to the ring of armchairs, settling into one herself. 

Draco sat on the one next to her and immediately relaxed. It felt like he’d just slipped into a warm bath; every bit of tension flowed out of him as he sank into the squishy chair. “Um…” Wait, what had she asked him? “Yes?”

She chuckled. “I apologize- the chairs tend to have that effect on people. My husband makes magical appliances, and tends to test out new spells on our own furniture. These are a result of a new type of Comfort Charm.” 

He ran a hand over the soft fabric in awe, realizing that when he paid attention, he could pick the magic in the chair out from that of the rest of the room. “Incredible,” he breathed.

“I’ll let him know that you think so,” Asma replied, leaning forward. “Now, are you ready to get your wand?”

He nodded fervently, and she reached into her robes, withdrawing an intricately carved wand. Draco willed himself to stay still as she pointed it at him. Moony’s steadying hand found his shoulder. 

“Could you put out your hand, love?” Her voice was gentle, like she’d gleaned his fear.

Draco tentatively extended his hand toward her, and she carefully waved the stick over it, murmuring an unfamiliar spell as she did so.

Tingling magic flowed across his palm, and he watched, enraptured, as one of the lines on it turned a glowing silver and floated off of it. It hung in the air between them, twisting and curling in the air. Someone, maybe Richard, drew in a breath at the sight. 

“How…” Draco murmured, eyes still on the slowly undulating thread. “What…”

Asma tucked her wand back away. “That, my dear boy, is your life line. It holds a record of every event of your life so far, and it will be your guide to your wand.” She stood up gracefully and made her way to the same door that she had come through, Draco and the thread following behind. Quiet murmurs began to filter into his ears as he got closer.

“Through this door are the wands that I currently have ready for their cores,” Asma explained. “Your thread will seek the one most suited to you and your experiences. I cannot tell you  _ how _ you’ll know which one is the best for you, but I can assure you that you will.”

Draco nodded, and she opened the door, exposing what looked like a corridor lined with glass. 

“You’ve got this, cyw!” Nain called from behind him, followed by encouragement from the rest of his family. 

He took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

***

  
  


The murmurs condensed into voices the moment that the door closed behind him, and a feeling of apprehension settled in his stomach. Tuning them out for a moment, he looked around, trying to get his bearings in the dim light.

His original impression had been wrong- the corridor didn’t have glass walls. Both sides of the narrow hallway were framed by dark wood cabinets with glass faces, each of which held a collection of differently shaped wands. A few meters in front of him, the corridor split in two as it travelled into the depths of the room. 

The line hovered in the air in front of him, and Draco began to walk after it.

It hadn’t been too long past the first hallway fork when a husky female voice called to him, making him jump out of his skin. “Aha! You have a remarkable mind, don’t you, young wizard?” It paused for a second, and he imagined that it was tapping its chin. “But you should be prized for more than that, because you are so much more. Move beyond your desperation to prove yourself; you’re the only one who doesn’t see how good you already are. I am stolid and stubborn, and you are in need of someone who will grow. Move on, lad.”

“Hmm… a non-verbal affinity for certain,” decided a plainly cut wood of light tan in the case next to it. “Truly creative as well, but you need a wand that bonds with others, kind boy. I am solitary. Move on and grow.”

Draco smiled at the wands that had spoken, finding small plaques on their cabinet doors that identified them as walnut and pine, and walked on.

“Perhaps we would have suited you once…” murmured a dark honey colored wand in two distinct voices. “A divided soul you would have been, at war with yourself. Another lifetime, perhaps…” 

He shuddered and walked past.

“Oh ho ho!” The next voice sounded like its voice had come from a thick-chested man, deep and boisterous. “What have we here, hmm? Quite creative, wouldn’t you say, Maple?”

“Hmm, yes indeed, Red Oak.” This one reminded him of how Nain might have sounded in her youth. “And quite high achieving too. The wanderlust in him would suit either of us, unless- oi! Sycamore!”

Draco looked around for the wand that spoke next, eventually locating a marbled red and tan one. It seemed equally as excitable as the other two when it pitched its two Knuts in. “Me as well, I suppose. Quite the curious one, that’s for sure. I just… don’t think that we fit him well enough.”

The first wand- Red Oak- turned its attention to Draco. “Yes, I believe my compatriots are right, son. We all appreciate your adventurous spirit and your desire to learn, but you need someone less flighty, more personal. We are wandering wands, just like this shop and those who hold us.”

“Move along, love.” He wasn’t sure whether it was Sycamore or Maple who said it, but he nodded to them and continued following the line.

“Well, hello, hello! You’re a mischievous one!” 

Draco checked the label quickly. Dogwood. It sounded like a boy a few years older than him, with a distinct American accent.

“I’m quite the troublemaker too, you see. Creativity and mischief are the name of the game; there’s nothing I love more!” Its tone turned down slightly, and Draco imagined that it was frowning. “But you’re quiet. Subtle. And gosh, what a nonverbal affinity! Move on, my friend, nothing for you here! I’m the loud sort- go find someone a bit more sneaky!”

A warm chuckle came from two cases down, and Draco bid a quick farewell to the dogwood wand before going to see who had spoken.

“Dogwood is a talker, if you couldn’t tell.” The wand’s voice was distinctly motherly, and he felt himself relaxing. “You are, though not to that extent. You only really talk to the people you know, huh?” 

He shrugged, and the voice giggled again. “There’s no need to be shy about it; the relationships which you do have are close and full of love, which I can see that you have a lot to give. I am a social, loving wand, and were it not for the feeling that you have someone better seeking you, I would snatch you up in a heartbeat! But for now, move on, sweet child. Find the wand that seeks you.” 

A dreamy voice emanated from a case of oddly familiar silver wands. “Hmm, it isn’t every day that you meet someone with such a connection to Fate, or so gifted at Legilimency. You’re a special boy, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have you pick me up today, but pass my recommendation along to the holder of my sister… Have them teach you our Art.”

Draco glanced at the label and understood. Silver lime- this was the same as Berlioz’s wand. He  _ really _ needed to learn more about wandlore.

He’d made it more than halfway through the room now, and the voices calling to him were getting fewer and farther between. He’d followed the line down two more turns before another wand spoke to him. 

“Hmm.”

He stopped and turned toward the case that the noise had come from. Alder.

“You’re quite different from me, little wizard. I couldn’t care less about people other than my bearer, but you are compassionate. I am arrogant and stubborn, stuck in my ways. You mold your worldview to fit new things and recognize that nothing is truly permanent. You move where I stay rooted.”

It lapsed into silence for a moment, and Draco looked back to the line, but it wasn’t moving yet, meaning that the wand still had more to say. 

“I appreciate that. I am one of the only wands for whom opposites attract, you see, and we are quite opposite. As those that have come before have probably told you, your potential for nonverbal magic, which I excel at, is quite impressive. But… mm… I feel that there is someone better. If I am wrong, return and find me, little one. Goodbye.”

The next voice reminded him of Madame Maxime- stately, strong, and laced with a hint of a smile. “Hello, young wizard.”

“H-hello.”

“I am known to be difficult to please. I peer into your soul, your mind, your magic, and I determine if I see fit to bond myself to you.” A pause. “You’re quite the multi-faceted one, aren’t you? Hidden talents- my specialty- and hidden trials all knotted up inside your head. I could grant you the keys to unlocking those talents and the confidence to overcome those trials, and much of me desires to do so.” 

The wand- larch, he noted- trailed off, and Draco waited for the ‘but’ that was sure to come. 

“But… something tells me that there is a wand here more suited to you. You have a capacity for growth that not even I could completely adjust for, you see. Continue on, young one, and seek the wand that will allow you to soar.”

The line, apparently heeding larch’s advice, turned to the right, past a few wands that remained silent, before-

Something in the air changed. Tendrils of warmth wrapped around Draco’s legs, pulling him down the corridor like they were excited to show him something. The line apparently shared the enthusiasm, because it sped ahead, lighting the corridor where it ended in a window. 

And there, in the cabinet next to the window, sat a solitary wand. It was almost creamy in shade and shaped into a spiral that reminded him of a unicorn’s horn. Delicately carved runes followed its spiralling edge, forming a ring around the top of the handle. 

Draco opened the case in a daze, looking down at the wand that felt so  _ right _ , and then stopped dead. 

It was terrifying. 

He’d forgotten his fear during his walk through the room, talking to the wands from behind sheets of protective glass. But now that he was here, hand tentatively outstretched towards the wand that seemed to be made for him, it all came back. 

Wands were things that hurt. Wands brought pain. How could he pick it up? What if it hurt him or- Merlin forbid- someone else?

This time, the voice that spoke to him was his own. 

“Are you afraid?” It sounded far more confident than he ever had. 

Draco nodded mutely.

“I will never hurt you, you know.”

“Yes, but-”

“All wands can hurt. All wands can heal. So can all people. We are all capable of great good and great evil, and it is our choice which one we embrace. For me to hurt you, you would have to make the choice to make me do so.”

“Then it would really be  _ me _ hurting myself, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly. Would you hurt yourself?”

“No.” 

“Then why are you afraid?”

Draco reached in and wrapped his fingers around the wand. It was warm, and he could feel the calm it brought seep into his bones. The line drifted down and wrapped itself around the curved wood, glowing gently before being absorbed into it. 

“I’m not.”


End file.
